ANNE 
WARNER 


A 


SUNSHINE  JANE 


"Auntie  Susan,  it's  Aunt  Matilda  and  Mr.  Beamer." 
FRONTISPIECE.    See  Page  265. 


SUNSHINE  JANE 


BY 


ANNE  WARNER 

AUTHOB  OF  "THE  BEJUVENATION  OF  AUNT  MABY,"  "SUSAN 
CLEGG  AND  HER  FRIEND,  MBS.  LATHBOP,"  ETC. 


WITH   FRONTISPIECE  BY 

HARRIET  ROOSEVELT  RICHARDS 


BOSTON 
LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 

1914 


Copyright,  1913,  1914, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published,  February,  1914 
Reprinted,  January,  1914 


Set  up  and  electrotyped  by  J.  S.  Gushing  Co.,  Norwood,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Presswork  by  S.  J.  Parkhill  &  Co.,  Boston,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PA6B 

I.  GENERAL  IGNORANCE  ....  1 

II.  EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE    ...  6 

III.  MATILDA  TEACHES      ....  22 

IV.  JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING  ...  37 
V.  A  CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS  .  61 

VI.    LORENZO  RATH 84 

VII.  A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA  .        .  98 

VIII.    SOUL-UPLIFTING 127 

IX.  MADELEINE'S  SECRET  ....  138 

X.  OLD  MRS.  CROFT        ....  148 

XI.    SHE  SLEEPS 159 

XII.  EMILY'S  PROJECT         .        .        .        .169 

XIII.  EMILY  is  HERSELF  FREELY        .        .  191 

XIV.  JANE'S  CONVERTS        .        .        .        .208 

v 


2227864 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XV.    REAL  CONVERSATION        .        .        .  220 
XVI.    THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  THING  EVER 

HAPPENED 233 

XVII.    WHY  JANE  SHOULD  HAVE  BELIEVED  243 

XVIII.    IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY  .        .  256 

XIX.    THE  RESULTS  .  277 


VI 


SUNSHINE  JANE 


SUNSHINE   JANE 

CHAPTER   I 

GENERAL   IGNORANCE 

rilHERE  was  something  pathetic  in  the 
-•-  serene  unconsciousness  of  the  little 
village  as  the  stage  came  lumbering  down 
the  hillside,  bearing  its  freight  of  portent. 
So  many  things  were  going  to  be  changed 
forever  after,  —  and  no  one  knew  it.  Such 
a  vast  difference  was  going  speedily  to  make 
itself  felt,  and  not  a  soul  was  aware  even 
of  what  a  bigger  soul  it  was  so  soon  to  be. 
Old  Mrs.  Croft,  clear  at  the  other  end  of 
town  and  paralyzed  for  twenty  years, 
hadn't  the  slightest  conception  of  what  a 
leading  part  was  being  prepared  for  her 
to  play.  Poor  Katie  Croft,  her  daughter- 
in-law  and  slave,  whose  one  prayer  was  for 
freedom,  dreamed  not  that  the  answer  was 

1 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

now  at  last  coming  near.  Mrs.  Cowmull, 
sitting  on  her  porch  awaiting  the  "artist 
who  had  advertised,"  knew  not  who  or 
what  or  how  old  he  might  be  or  the  interest 
that  would  soon  be  hers.  Poor  Emily 
Mead,  shelling  peas  on  the  bench  at  the 
back  of  her  mother's  house,  frowned  fret- 
fully and,  putting  back  her  great  lock  of 
rich  chestnut  hair  with  an  impatient  gesture, 
wished  that  she  might  see  "just  one  real 
man  before  she  died,"  —  and  the  man  was 
even  then  jolting  towards  her.  Miss  Debby 
Vane,  putting  last  touches  to  the  flowers 
on  her  guest-room  table,  where  Madeleine 
would  soon  see  them,  was  also  sweetly 
unaware  of  the  approach  of  momentous 
events.  She  thought  but  of  Madeleine, 
the  distant  cousin  whose  parents  wanted 
to  see  if  absence  would  break  up  an  obnox- 
ious love  affair,  and  so  were  sending  her 
to  Miss  Debby,  who  was  "only  too  pleased." 
"A  love  affair,"  she  whispered  raptur- 
ously. "A  real  love  affair  in  this  town  !" 
And  then  she  pursed  her  lips  delightfully, 

2 


GENERAL  IGNORANCE 

never  guessing  that  she  was  to  see  so  much 
besides. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Matilda  Drew  stood 
looking  sternly  out  of  her  sister  Susan's 
window,  considering  if  there  were  any 
necessary  yet  up  to  now  forgotten  point 
to  be  impressed  upon  Jane  the  instant 
that  she  should  arrive.  Miss  Matilda  was 
naturally  as  ignorant  as  all  the  rest, — as 
ignorant  even  as  poor  Susan,  lying  primly 
straight  behind  her  on  the  bed.  Susan 
was  a  widow  and  an  invalid,  not  paralyzed 
like  old  Mrs.  Croft,  but  pretty  helpless. 
Matilda  had  lived  with  her  for  five  years 
and  tended  her  assiduously,  as  she  grew 
more  and  more  feeble.  Now  Matilda  was 
"about  give  out,"  and  —  "just  like  a 
answer  out  of  a  clear  sky,"  as  Matilda  said 
—  their  niece  Jane,  whom  neither  had  seen 
since  she  was  a  mite  in  curls  fifteen  years 
ago,  had  written  to  ask  if  she  might  spend 
her  holiday  with  them.  They  had  said 
'Yes,"  and  Matilda  was  going  away  for  a 
rest  while  Jane  kept  house  and  waited  on 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

her  poor  old  aunt.  Jane  was  one  of  the 
passengers  now  rattling  along  in  the  stage. 
She  differed  widely  from  the  others  and 
from  every  one  else  in  the  village,  but  all 
put  together,  they  formed  that  mass  known 
to  literature  as  "the  situation."  I  think 
myself  that  it  was  the  rest  that  formed 
"the  situation"  and  that  Jane  formed 
"the  key,"  but  I  may  be  prejudiced. 
Anyway,  "key"  or  not,  Miss  Matilda's 
niece  was  a  sweet,  brown-skinned,  bright- 
haired  girl,  with  a  happy  face,  great, 
beautiful  eyes,  and  a  heart  that  beat  every 
second  in  truer  accord  with  the  great 
working  principles  of  the  universe.  She 
was  the  only  one  among  them  now  who  had 
a  foot  upon  the  step  that  led  to  the  path 
"higher  up."  And  yet  because  she  was 
the  only  one,  she  had  seen  her  way  to  come 
gladly  and  teach  them  what  they  had  never 
known;  not  only  that,  but  also  to  learn 
of  them  the  greatest  lesson  of  her  own  life. 
So  we  see  that  although  conscious  of  both 
hands  overflowing  with  gifts,  Jane  really 

4 


GENERAL  IGNORANCE 

was  as  ignorant,  in  God's  eyes,  as  all  the 
rest.  She  had  gone  far  enough  beyond 
the  majority  to  know  that  to  give  is  the 
di vines t  joy  which  one  may  know,  but  she 
had  not  gone  far  enough  to  realize  that  in 
the  greatest  outpouring  of  generosity  which 
we  can  ever  give  vent  to,  a  vacuum  is 
created  which  receives  back  from  those  we 
benefit  gifts  way  beyond  the  value  of  our 
own.  "I  shall  bring  so  much  happiness 
here,"  ran  the  undercurrent  of  her  thought ; 
she  never  imagined  that  Fate  had  brought 
her  to  this  simple  village  to  fashion  herself 
unto  better  things. 

So  all,  alike  unaware  —  those  in  the 
stage  and  those  awaiting  its  advent  with 
passengers  and  post  —  drew  long,  relieved 
breaths  as  it  passed  with  rattle  and  clatter 
over  the  bridge  and  into  the  main  street. 


CHAPTER  II 

EVERYBODY   GETS   THERE 

TANE  sat  on  the  rear  seat  with  old  Mr. 
*-*  Cattermole,  who  was  coming  home 
to  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Mead. 

"Ever  been  here  before?"  old  Mr.  Cat- 
termole asked  her. 

"No,  never." 

"Hey?" 

"No,  never." 

"Once?" 

"Never." 

"What?" 

"Never!" 

"I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,"  said  Mr.  Cat- 
termole, beaming  benevolently,  "it's  the 
jolting.  It  keeps  me  from  hearing  what 
you  say." 

Jane  nodded,  smiling. 
6 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

But  old  Mr.  Cattermole  wasn't  long 
inconvenienced  by  the  jolting. 

"Who  you  going  to  stop  with  ?"  he  asked 
next. 

"Mrs.  Ralston  and  Miss  Drew." 

"Who?" 

"Mrs.  Ralston  and  Miss  Drew." 

"  Who  ?     I  don't  hear  you. " 

."Miss  Drew." 

"The  Crews?  —  There  ain't  no  such 
people  in  town." 

"Miss  Drew!"  Jane  became  slightly 
crimson. 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  Mr.  Cattermole, 
"we'll  wait.  I  can't  hear.  Really  I  can't." 

The  next  minute  they  arrived  at  Mrs. 
Cowmull's,  since  she  lived  in  the  first 
house  on  the  street.  Lorenzo  Rath,  the 
artist,  who  had  been  sitting  on  the  middle 
seat  with  Madeleine,  now  pressed  her 
hand,  twisted  about  and  shook  Jane's, 
nodded  to  old  Mr.  Cattermole,  leaned 
forward  and  dragged  his  suit-case  from 
under  the  seat,  and  then  wriggled  out,  over 

7 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

two  boxes  and  under  a  flapping  curtain, 
and  down  on  to  the  sidewalk.  Mrs.  Cow- 
mull  was  standing  on  the  porch,  trying  to 
look  hospitable  and  unconscious  at  the 
same  time.  "Here,"  said  the  stage  driver, 
suddenly  delivering  Lorenzo's  trunk  on  to 
the  top  of  his  head,  —  "and  here's  the 
lampshade  and  the  codfish,  —  they  get 
down  here,  too." 

Lorenzo  couldn't  help  laughing.  "Au 
revoir,"  he  cried,  waving  the  lampshade 
as  the  steps  began  to  move. 

"We'll  meet  again  soon,"  Madeleine 
cried,  her  face  full  of  bright  color. 

:'Yes,  of  course." 

Then  they  were  off. 

"Seemed  a  nice  young  feller,"  said  old 
Mr.  Cattermole  to  Jane. 

"Yes."     She  tried  to  speak  loudly. 

"Hey!" 

"Yes." 

"I'll  tell  you,"  said  old  Mr.  Cattermole 
benevolently,  "you  come  and  see  my  grand- 
daughter Emily,  and  then  we'll  talk.  My 

8 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

granddaughter's  a  great  student.  You'll 
like  her.  She's  full  of  the  new  ideas  and 
new  books  and  all  that.  We're  very  proud 
of  her.  Only  she  don't  get  married." 

Then  the  stage  stopped,  and  Mrs.  Mead 
came  running  out.  "Oh,  Father,  did  you 
buy  the  new  magazines,  —  on  the  train, 
you  know  ?" 

Old  Mr.  Cattermole  was  descending  back- 
wards with  the  care  of  a  cat  in  an  apple- 
tree.  "It's  my  daughter,"  he  said  to 
Jane.  "I  can  always  hear  her  because 
she  speaks  so  plain.  Yes,  Emma,  it  was 
dusty,  very  dusty." 

"This  lawn-sprinkler  is  your's,  ain't  it  ?" 
said  the  stage  driver,  jerking  it  off  the  roof 
into  Mrs.  Mead's  arms.  "Here's  his  bag, 
too." 

And  then  they  went  on  again.  Made- 
leine now  had  space  to  turn  about.  "You'll 
come  and  see  me?"  she  asked  Jane  ear- 
nestly; "it'll  be  so  nice.  We're  both 
strangers  here." 

"I'll  try,"  Jane  answered,  "but  I  shall 
9 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

be  closely  tied  to  the  house.  Aunt  Susan 
is  an  invalid,  you  see.  I'll  not  only  have 
all  the  work,  but  if  I  go  out,  that  poor 
sick  woman  will  be  left  helpless  and  alone 
up-stairs." 

"Perhaps  I  can  come  and  see  you,  then," 
said  Madeleine.  "I'll  have  the  time  to 
come,  if  you'll  have  the  time  to  see  me." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  what  my 
life  will  be,"  said  Jane.  "As  I  told  you 
on  the  train,  I've  only  seen  my  aunts  once 
in  my  life  and  that  was  fifteen  years  ago. 
But  I  should  think  that  you  could  come 
and  see  us.  I  should  think  that  a  little 
company  would  do  Aunt  Susan  a  lot  of 
good.  I'm  sure  that  it  would,  in  fact. 
But  she  may  not  like  to  see  strangers.  I 
really  don't  know  a  thing  about  it.  I'm 
all  in  the  dark." 

"I'll  come  and  ask  if  I  may  come,"  said 
Madeleine  brightly.  "If  she  sees  me, 
maybe  she'll  like  me.  Most  everybody 
does."  She  laughed. 

"I'm  sure  of  that,"  Jane  said,  laughing, 
10 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

too.  Then  the  stage  stopped  at  Miss 
Debby  Vane's,  and  Miss  Debby  came 
flying  down  to  embrace  her  cousin. 
"Thanks  be  to  God  that  you're  here  safe, 
my  dear.  These  awful  storms  at  sea  have 
just  about  frightened  me  to  death." 

"But  I  was  on  land,  Aunt  Deborah." 
Madeleine,  in  getting  down,  had  gotten 
into  a  warm  embrace  at  the  same  time. 

"I  know,  dear,  I  know.  But  one  can't 
remember  that  all  the  time  —  can  one?" 
Miss  Debby  was  kissing  her  over  and  over. 

"Your  step-ladder.  Look  out!"  cried 
the  stage  driver,  and  they  had  barely  time 
to  jump  from  under. 

Then  Madeleine  reached  up  and  clasped 
Jane's  hand.  "We  shall  be  friends,"  she 
said  earnestly;  "I've  never  met  any  one 
whom  I've  liked  quite  in  the  same  way 
that  I  like  you.  Do  let  us  see  all  that  we 
can  of  one  another." 

"7  want  to,  I  know,"  Jane  answered. 

The  stage  driver  was  already  remounting 
his  seat. 

11 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Au  revoir,"  Madeleine  cried,  just  as 
Lorenzo  had  done.  ,  ' 

"Just  for  a  little,"  Jane  called  back, 
and  then  she  was  alone  in  the  stage,  rat- 
tling down  the  long,  green-arched  street 
to  its  furthest  end. 

"There  goes  the  stage,"  Katie  Croft 
called  out  to  her  mother-in-law  in  the 
next  room.  "Now  Miss  Drew'll  have  her 
niece  and  be  able  to  get  away  for  a  little 
rest." 

"If  it  was  a  daughter-in-law,  she  couldn't, 
maybe,"  said  a  voice  from  the  next  room; 
"the  rest  is  going  to  be  poor,  sweet  Susan 
Ralston's,  anyhow.  Oh,  my  Susan  Ral- 
ston, my  dear,  sweet  Susan  Ralston,  my 
loving  Susan  Ralston,  where  I  used  to  go 
and  call  !" 

"Why,  Mother,  you  haven't  so  much  as 
thought  of  Mrs .  Ralston  for  years . ' '  Katie's 
voice  was  very  sharp. 

"Nobody  knows  what  I  think  of,"  wailed 
the  voice  from  the  other  room.  "My 
thoughts  is  music.  They  fly  and  sing  all 

12 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

night.     They   sing   Caw,    Caw,   and   they 
fly  like  feathers." 

Katie  Croft  walked  over  and  shut  the 
door  with  a  bang.  Katie  was  almost 
beside  herself. 

The  stage  now  drew  up  before  the  Ral- 
ston house. 

Miss  Matilda  quitted  the  window,  where 
she  had  stood  watching  for  an  hour,  and 
went  to  the  gate.  Her  emotions  were 
quite  tumultuous — for  her.  Single-handed 
she  had  tended  her  sister  for  five  years, 
and  now  she  was  going  to  have  a  rest. 
She  had  had  very  trying  symptoms,  and 
the  doctor  had  advised  a  rest,  —  three 
weeks  of  freedom,  night  and  day.  She  was 
going  away  on  a  real  holiday,  going  back 
to  the  place  where  she  had  taught  school 
before  the  summons  had  come  to  cherish, 
love,  and  protect  her  only  sister,  who  was 
not  strong  and  had  property.  It  seemed 
like  a  dream,  —  a  wild,  lively,  and  joyful 
dream.  She  almost  smiled  as  she  thought 
of  what  was  at  hand. 

13 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Jane  descended,  her  small  trunk  came 
bang  down  beside  her  in  the  same  instant, 
and  the  driver  was  paid  and  drove  off. 
The  aunt  and  niece  then  turned  to  go  into 
the  house. 

"Well,  and  so  it's  you!"  Matilda's 
tone  and  glance  were  slightly  inquisitorial, 
and  more  than  slightly  dictatorial.  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you're  strong.  You'll  need  be. 
She's  an  awful  care.  She  ain't  up  much 
now.  Isn't  up  at  all  sometimes  for  weeks. 
Sleeps  considerable.  Take  off  your  hat 
and  coat  and  hang  them  there.  That's 
the  place  where  they  belong." 

Jane  obeyed  without  saying  anything. 
But  her  smile  spoke  for  her. 

"Hungry  ?"  inquired  Matilda. 
:    "A  little." 

"I  surmised  you  would  be  and  waited 
supper.  Thought  you'd  see  how  I  fixed 
hers  then.  She's  eating  very  little.  Less 
and  less  all  the  time.  There's  a  garden  to 
weed,  too.  Awful  inconvenient  out  there 
across  two  stiles.  But  she  won't  give  it 

14 


up.  She  pays  me  to  tend  it,  or  I'd  let  the 
dandelions  root  it  out  in  short  order.  But 
I  tend  it." 

They  had  gone  into  the  kitchen,  where 
a  kettle  stewed  feebly  over  a  half-dead 
fire.  "Sit  down,"  said  Matilda.  "I'll  fix 
her  supper  first.  She  takes  her  tea  cold, 
so  I  save  it  from  morning  and  heat  it  up 
with  a  little  boiling  water,  so.  Then  there's 
this  bit  of  fish  I  saved  from  day  before 
yesterday,  and  I  cut  a  piece  of  bread.  No 
butter,  because  her  stomach's  delicate. 
You'll  see  that  she'll  hardly  eat  this. 
Watch  now." 

Jane  sat  and  watched,  still  smiling. 

"  Mr.  Rath,  the  artist,  came  down  in  the 
stage  with  you,  didn't  he?"  Miss  Matilda 
went  on.  "What  kind  of  a  young  man 
was  he  ?  Somebody '11  tell  you,  so  it  might 
as  well  be  me,  what's  brought  him  here. 
Mrs.  Cowmull's  trying  to  marry  off  her 
niece,  Emily  Mead.  There  aren't  any  men 
in  town,  so  she  advertised.  She  gave  it  out 
that  she  wanted  a  boarder,  but  everybody 

15 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

see  through  that.  That's  what  marriage 
has  come  to  these  days,  catching  men  to 
board  'em  and  then  marrying  them  when 
they're  thinking  of  something  else.  I  thank 
Heaven  I  ain't  had  nothing  to  do  with  any 
marriage.  They're  a  bad  business.  There, 
that's  your  supper." 

Jane  started  slightly.  Her  own  cold 
fish  and  lukewarm  tea  sat  before  her. 
"Shan't  I  take  Aunt  Susan's  up  first?" 
she  asked,  recollecting  that  she  still  had 
some  lunch  in  her  bag,  and  that  Matilda 
would  be  leaving  early  in  the  morning. 

"No  need.  She  likes  things  cold.  You 
ought  to  see  her  face  if  she  gets  anything 
boiling  in  her  mouth.  It's  no  use  to  give 
her  nothing  hot.  You'd  think  it  was  a 
snake.  I  give  it  up  the  third  time  she 
burnt  her." 

"But  I  ought  to  go  up  and  see  her,  I 
think ;  she  hasn't  seen  me  since  I  was  such 
a  little  girl." 

"No  need.  You  go  ahead  and  enjoy 
your  supper  without  bothering  over  her. 

16 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

She  knows  you're  here,  and  she  isn't  one 
that's  interested  in  things.  She'll  read 
an  old  shelf  paper  for  hours,  but  carry 
her  up  a  new  paper  and  like  as  not  when 
you  get  to  the  bed  with  it,  you'll  find  her 
asleep.  She  sleeps  a  lot." 

Jane  —  thus  urged  —  picked  the  chilled 
fish  with  a  fork  and  considered. 

"I'll  show  you  about  the  house  after 
you've  done  eating,"  the  aunt  continued 
presently;  "it's  easy  taken  care  of,  for  I 
keep  it  all  shut  up.  Just  Susan's  room 
and  mine  and  the  kitchen  is  open.  The 
neighbors  won't  bother  you,  for  I  give  them 
to  understand  long  ago  as  I  wasn't  one  with 
time  to  waste.  There  isn't  any  one  in  the 
place  that  a  woman  with  any  sense  would 
want  to  bother  with,  anyhow." 

"I  don't  fancy  that  I'll  have  time  to  be 
lonesome,"  smiled  Jane,  bravely  swallowing 
some  tea. 

"  You'd  have  if  it  wasn't  for  the  garden. 
I  don't  know  whatever  in  the  world  makes 
Susan  set  such  store  by  that  garden.  She 

17 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

will  have  it  that  it  shall  be  kept  up  in  mem- 
ory of  her  husband,  and  you  never  saw  such 
weeds.  I've  often  sat  down  backwards 
when  one  come  up  —  often." 

"I  can't  see  it  at  all,"  with  a  glance  out 
of  the  window. 

"You  can't  from  here.  And  it's  got  to  be 
watered,  and  she  counts  every  pot  full  of 
water  from  her  bed.  She  can  hear  me  pump- 
ing. The  birds  dig  up  the  seeds  as  fast  as  I 
can  plant  'em,  and  I  never  saw  no  sense  in 
slaving  in  the  sun  over  what  you  can  buy 
in  the  shade  any  day.  —  Are  you  done  ?" 

"Yes,  I'm  done." 

"Then  come  on." 

"Can  I  spread  the  tray  ?" 

"Tray  !  She  doesn't  have  a  tray.  What 
should  I  fuss  with  a  tray  for,  when  I've 
got  two  hands  ?" 

Jane  rose  and  stood  by  the  table  in  silence, 
watching  the  cup  filled  from  the  standing 
teapot  and  the  plate  ornamented  with  a 
lonely  bit  of  fish  and  a  slice  of  bread. 
"Don't  you  butter  the  bread?" 

18 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

"She's  in  bed  so  much  she  mustn't 
have  rich  food,"  Matilda  answered ;  "there, 
now  it's  ready.  Come  on." 

"Shan't  I  carry  anything  ?" 

"I  can  take  it,  I  guess.  I've  carried  it 
alone  for  five  years ;  I  guess  I  can  manage 
it  to-night." 

Jane  followed  up  the  stairs  in  silence; 
Matilda  marched  ahead  with  a  firm,  heavy 
tread. 

"Shall  I  knock  for  you?" 

"I  don't  know  what  for.  She  yells 
anyway,  whenever  I  come  in,  whether  she's 
knocked  or  not.  Just  open  the  door." 

Jane  opened  the  door  gently,  and  they 
went  in  together.  The  room  was  half 
darkened,  and  only  a  little  sharp  nose 
showed  over  the  top  of  the  bedquilt. 

"Here's  your  supper,"  said  the  affec- 
tionate sister,  "and  here's  Jane." 

A  shrill  cry  was  followed  by  two  eyes 
tipping  upward  beyond  the  nose.  "Oh, 
are  you  Jane  ?"  There  was  a  lot  of  pathos 
in  the  tone. 

19 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

The  girl  moved  quickly  to  the  bedside. 
"I  hope  that  we're  going  to  be  very  happy," 
she  said;  "we  must  love  one  another  very 
much,  you  know." 

The  invalid  hoisted  herself  on  to  an  elbow 
and  looked  towards  the  plate  which  Matilda 
was  holding  forth. 

"  Oh,  my  !    Fish  again  ! "  she  wailed. 

Later  —  on  their  way  back  to  the  kitchen 
fire  —  Matilda  said  significantly:  "Most 
ungrateful  person  I  ever  saw,  she  is.  But 
just  don't  notice  what  she  says.  It's  the 
only  way  to  get  on.  I  keep  her  room  tidy 
and  I  keep  her  house  clean  and  I  keep 
her  garden  weeded.  I'm  careful  of  her 
money,  and  she's  well  fed.  I  don't  know 
what  more  any  one  could  ask,  but  she 
ain't  satisfied  and  she  ain't  always  polite, 
but  you'll  only  have  three  weeks  of  what 
I've  had  for  five  years,  so  I  guess  it  won't 
kill  you." 

"Oh,  I  think  that  I'll  be  all  right,"  Jane 
answered  cheerfully. 

"The  stage  is  ordered  for  seven  in  the 
20 


EVERYBODY  GETS  THERE 

morning,  and  I  shall  get  up  at  half-past 
four,"  the  aunt  continued.  "You  can 
sleep  till  five  just  as  well.  I'm  going  to 
bed  now,  and  you'd  better  do  the  same 
thing." 

"Yes,  I  think  so,"  said  Jane  cheerfully; 
"good  night." 


CHAPTER  III 

MATILDA    TEACHES 

IMTATILDA  seated  herself  bolt  upright 
-L*J-  on  one  of  the  kitchen  chairs  and 
drew  a  hard,  stiff  sigh. 

"It'll  be  a  great  rest  to  get  away,"  she 
said,  "more  of  a  rest  than  any  one  but  me 
will  ever  know.  You  see,  she's  left  all 
she's  got  to  me  in  her  will,  so  I'm  bound  in 
honor  to  keep  a  pretty  sharp  watch  over 
everything.  I  can't  even  take  a  chance 
at  her  sinking  suddenly  away,  with  the 
room  not  picked  up  or  a  cobweb  in  some 
high  corner.  I've  seen  her  will,  and  she 
ain't  left  you  a  cent,  so  you  won't  have  the 
same  responsibility.  It'll  be  easier  for 
you." 

"I'll  do  my  very  best,"  said  Jane. 
"The  trouble  is  I'm  too  conscientious," 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

said  Matilda.  "I  was  always  conscien- 
tious, and  she  was  always  slack.  It's  an 
awful  failing.  It's  a  warning,  too,  for  now 
there  she  lays,  snug  as  a  bug  in  a  rug,  and 
me  with  New  Asthma  in  my  arm  from  tend- 
ing her  and  the  house." 

"You'll  get  over  all  that  very  soon,"  said 
the  niece  soothingly. 

Matilda  glanced  at  her  suspiciously. 
"No,  I  shan't.  I  may  get  better,  but  I 
shan't  get  over  it.  It's  a  nerve  trouble 
and  can't  never  be  completely  cured.  A 
doctor  can  alligator  it,  but  he  can't  cure 
it.  I'll  have  it  till  I  die." 

Jane  was  silent. 

"You  wrote  that  you  were  some  kind  of 
a  nurse.  What  kind  did  you  say  you 

9  " 

were  r 

"I'm  a  Sunshine  Nurse." 

"A  Sunshine  Nurse!  What's  that? 
Some  new  idea  of  never  pulling  down  the 
shades? " 

Jane  laughed.  "Not  exactly.  It's  an 
Order  just  founded  by  a  doctor.  He  picked 

23 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

out  the  girls  himself,  and  he  sends  them 
where  he  chooses  for  training." 

"What's  the  training  ?" 

Jane  looked  at  her  and  hesitated  a  little. 
"I  expect  you'll  laugh,"  she  said  finally; 
"it  does  sound  funny  to  any  one  who  isn't 
used  to  such  ideas.  We're  to  see  the  sun 
as  always  shining,  and  always  shine  our- 
selves, and  our  training  consists  in  going 
where  there  isn't  any  brightness  and  being 
bright,  and  going  where  there  isn't  any 
happiness  and  teaching  happiness." 

"Sounds  to  me  like  nonsense,"  said 
Matilda,  rising  abruptly;  "don't  you  go 
letting  up  the  sitting-room  shades  and 
fading  the  upholstering,  —  that's  all  I've 
got  to  say.  Come  now  and  I'll  show  you 
about  locking  up,  and  then  we'll  go  to 
bed." 

Jane  obeyed  with  promptness  and  was 
most  observant  and  attentive.  Matilda 
loaded  her  with  behests  and  instructions 
and  seemed  appreciative  of  the  intelli- 
gence with  which  they  were  received. 

24 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

"I  wouldn't  go  in  for  nothing  fancy," 
she  said,  as  they  completed  their  task; 
"  the  less  you  stir  up  her  and  the  house,  the 
easier  it'll  be  for  me  when  I  come  back. 
You  don't  want  to  ever  forget  that  I'm 
coming  back,  and  don't  put  any  fancy  ideas 
into  her  head.  There's  plenty  to  do  here 
without  going  out  of  your  way  to  upset 
my  ways." 

"I'll  remember,"  said  Jane. 

Then  they  started  up-stairs,  and  a  few 
minutes  later  the  Sunshine  Nurse  was 
alone  in  her  own  room,  free  to  stand  quietly 
by  the  window  and  let  her  outward  gaze 
form  a  bond  between  the  still  beauty  of 
a  country  night  and  the  glad  vision  of 
work  in  plenty,  and  that  of  a  kind  which 
Miss  Matilda  couldn't  prohibit,  because 
she  knew  not  the  world  in  which  such  work 
is  done. 

"Not — "  said  Jane  to  herself  with  a 
little  whimsical  smile  — "  not  but  what 
I'm  'most  sure  that  my  teaching  will  be 
manifest  in  a  lot  of  material  changes,  too, 

25 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

but  by  the  time  that  she  comes  back,  her 
own  feelings  will  be  sufficiently  *alli- 
gatored'  so  that  she'll  see  life  differently 
also.  God's  plan  is  just  as  much  for  her 
good  in  sending  her  away  as  it  is  for  mine 
in  sending  me  here,  and  I  mustn't  forget 
that  for  a  minute.  I'll  be  busy  and  she'll 
be  busy,  and  we'll  both  be  learning  and 
we'll  both  be  teaching  and  we'll  both  be 
being  necessary." 

She  drew  a  chair  close  and  sat  down,  full 
of  her  own  bright  and  helpful  thoughts. 
Much  of  love  and  wonder  came  flooding 
into  her  through  the  medium  of  the  sweet, 
calm  night  without.  "  It's  like  being  among 
angels,"  she  fancied,  and  felt  a  close  com- 
panionship with  those  who  had  known  the 
Great  White  Messengers  face  to  face. 

Long  she  sat  there,  praying  the  prayer 
that  is  just  one  indrawn  breath  of  content 
and  uplifted  consciousness.  Not  many  girls 
of  twenty-two  would  have  seen  so  much 
in  that  not  unusual  situation,  and  yet  it 
was  to  her  so  brimful  of  fair  possibilities 

26 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

that  she  could  hardly  wait  for  morning  to 
begin  work. 

When  she  rose  to  undress,  when  she 
climbed  into  the  plain,  hard  bed  that  re- 
ceived her  so  kindly,  when  she  slept  at 
last,  all  was  with  the  same  sense  of  respon- 
sibility mixed  with  energetic  intention.  All 
that  she  had  "asked"  in  the  usual  sense  of 
"asking  in  prayer"  had  been  "to  be 
shown  exactly  how,"  and  because  she  was 
one  of  those  who  know  every  prayer  to  be 
answered,  in  the  hour  of  its  making  she 
knew  that  to  be  answered,  too.  "I'll  be 
led  along,"  was  her  last  thought  before 
sleeping,  and  it  swept  the  fringe  of  her  con- 
sciousness, leaving  her  to  enter  dreamland 
with  the  happy  security  of  a  trusting  child. 

It  really  seemed  no  time  at  all  before 
Matilda  rapped  loudly  on  her  door,  bring- 
ing her  suddenly  to  the  knowledge  that 
the  hour  to  begin  all  the  longed-for  work 
was  at  hand. 

"Five  o'clock!"  Matilda  howled  gently 
through  the  crack. 

27 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

:<Yes,  yes,"  she  cried  in  response. 

The  door  opened  a  bit  wider.  "  You'd 
better  get  right  up  or  you'll  go  to  sleep 
again,"  Matilda  said,  putting  her  head  in, 
"right  this  minute." 

"Yes,  I  will." 

She  sat  up  in  bed  to  prove  it. 

"All  right,"  said  her  aunt  —  and  shut 
the  door. 

Jane  had  unpacked  her  small  trunk  the 
night  before,  and  so  was  able  to  dress 
quickly  and  get  down-stairs  without  a 
minute  wasted.  She  found  Matilda  in 
the  kitchen,  very  busy  with  the  stove. 

"I  do  hope  you'll  remember  what  I  said 
last  night,"  she  said,  shoveling  out  ashes 
with  an  energy  that  filled  the  room  with 
dust.  "I  can't  have  her  habits  all  upset. 
It'll  be  no  good  giving  me  this  change  if 
you  go  and  spoil  her.  Remember  that." 

"I  won't  make  any  trouble,"  promised 
Jane.  "I'll  always  remember  that  you're 
coming  back." 

As  she  spoke,  she  saw  again  the  thin, 
28 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

hopeless  face  on  the  pillow  up-stairs  and 
knew  that  Matilda  herself  was  to  know  a 
glad  surprise  over  the  change  which  should 
welcome  her  home-coming.  It  was  the 
learning  to  instantly  realize  the  better 
side  of  those  who  insisted  on  exhibiting 
their  worst  that  was  the  leading  force  in 
the  training  of  that  beaming  little  Order 
to  which  she  belonged.  The  Sunshine 
Nurses  were  forbidden  to  consider  anything 
or  anybody  as  fixedly  wrong  either  in  kind, 
conception,  or  working  out.  It  would  be 
a  very  comfortable  way  of  looking  at  things 
—  even  for  such  mere,  ordinary,  everyday 
folk  as  you  and  me. 

Matilda  now  said,  "Ugh,  ugh!"  over 
the  dust  and  proceeded  to  dive  into  the 
wood-box  with  one  hand  and  get  a  sliver 
in  her  thumb. 

"In  the  morning  she  has  tea,"  she  said, 
going  to  the  window  to  put  her  hand  to 
rights.  "One  cup.  Piece  of  bread.  At 
noon,  whatever  is  handy.  Night,  cup  of 
tea  and  whatever  she  fancies.  Bread  or  a 

29 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

cracker  usually.  She  eats  very  little  and 
less  all  the  time.  The  cat  eats  more  than 
she  does.  He's  a  snooper,  that  cat,  — 
you'll  have  to  watch  out." 

Jane  didn't  seem  to  understand.  "A 
—  a  snooper  ?" 

"Steals  food.  Awful  thief.  Slap  him 
when  you  catch  him  at  it ;  it's  all  you  can 
do.  Sometimes  I  throw  water  over  him. 
He'll  make  off  with  what  would  be  a  meal 
for  a  hired  man,  and  he's  sly  as  any  other 
thief." 

"Can't  I  help  you  with  your  hand  ?" 

"No,  you  can't.  I  get  lots  of  them. 
They  bother  me  a  little  because  Mrs. 
Croft's  cousin  died  of  blood-poison  from 
one.  There,  it's  out.  What  was  I  say- 
ing ?  Oh,  yes,  the  cat." 

"Where  is  she  now  ?" 

"It's  a  he.  Named  Alfred  for  her  hus- 
band. He's  up  in  her  room  now.  Always 
sleeps  on  her  bed.  She  will  have  him,  and 
I  humor  her.  She's  my  only  sister  and 
she  can't  live  long  and  she's  left  me  all  her 

30 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

money,  and  I  humor  her.     It's  my  plain 
duty." 

"Is  it  healthy  for  an  invalid  to  sleep  with 
a  cat?" 

"No,  it  ain't.  But  I  promised  to  do 
whatever  she  said  about  the  cat  and  the 
garden,  and  I  do." 

"I'm  sure  it's  very  good  in  you,"  Jane 
murmured,  looking  out  of  the  window. 

"It  is.  I'm  a  good  woman.  I  do  my 
whole  duty,  and  there's  not  many  in  a  town 
this  size  can  say  as  much." 

"Where  is  the  garden  ?" 

"I'll  show  you,  if  you  don't  mind  getting 
your  feet  wet.  I  have  my  rubbers  on 
already,  to  travel,  so  I  can  go  right  there 
now  while  the  fire  is  kindling." 

"Is  it  wet?" 

"Most  grass  is  wet,  at  five  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

Jane  wanted  to  laugh.  "I  mean,  isn't 
there  a  path  ?" 

"Part  way,  and  then  you  have  to  climb 
two  fences." 

31 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Climb!  Two!'*  the  niece  turned  in 
surprise. 

"Climb  two  fences.  You  never  saw 
such  a  place.  The  strip  between  is  rented 
for  a  cow-pasture.  That's  why  there's 
two  fences." 

"But  why  not  have  gates  ?" 

"Don't  ask  me.  Find  out  if  you  can. 
I've  lived  here  five  years,  and  I  ain't  found 
out.  You  try  and  see  if  you'll  do  better. 
She's  very  secretive,  and  so  was  he  before 
he  died.  I've  just  had  to  get  along  the 
best  I  could.  She  fails  and  fails  steady, 
but  it  don't  seem  to  affect  her  health  none, 
and  now  at  last  it's  affected  mine  instead 
and  give  me  neophytes  in  my  left  arm." 

Jane  turned  her  head  and  looked  some 
more  out  of  the  window. 

"We'll  go  now.  Might  as  well.  The 
kettle  will  get  to  boiling  while  we're  away, 
and  then  we'll  have  breakfast.  It  boils 
slow,  because  I've  got  the  eggs  in  it  for 
my  lunch.  Come  on." 

The  question  of  the  wet  grass  seemed  to 
32 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

have  faded.  They  went  out  the  kitchen 
door.  It  was  a  clear,  bright  morning. 
"Weedy  weather,"  commented  Matilda, 
and  led  the  way  down  the  path. 

"It's  a  pretty  place,"  said  Jane,  her  eyes 
roaming  happily. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so.  But  it  takes  an 
artist  or  some  one  who  hasn't  lived  in  it 
for  five  years  to  feel  that  way."  She 
paused  to  climb  the  first  fence.  It  was 
three  rails  high  and  very  awkward.  "I'll 
go  over  first,"  she  said.  "Think  of  it; 
I've  done  this  six  times  a  day  for  five 
years." 

Jane  didn't  wonder  that  she  was  so  agile 
at  it.  "But  how  funny  to  have  a  garden 
away  off  here  !"  she  said. 

Matilda  was  now  over  on  the  other  side. 
"Yes,  and  think  of  keeping  it  up.  Folks 
about  here  make  no  bones  of  telling  me 
that  they  were  both  half-witted,  only  as 
she's  my  sister,  they  try  to  give  me  to 
understand  as  she  caught  it  from  him. 
He  was  a  miser,  you  know." 

33 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Jane  was  just  getting  her  second  leg 
over.  "I  don't  know  a  thing  about  him," 
she  said. 

"Well,  you  will,  soon  enough.  The 
neighbors'll  come  flocking  as  soon  as  I'm 
gone,  and  you'll  soon  know  all  there  is  to 
know  about  us  all.  They'll  pick  me  to 
pieces,  too,  and  tell  you  I'm  starving  Susan 
to  death,  but  I  don't  care.  Climbing  these 
fences  has  hardened  me  to  calumny." 

They  crossed  the  strip  of  cow-pasture, 
and  Matilda  got  over  another  fence,  say- 
ing as  she  did  so:  "Whom  the  Lord  loveth 
He  chasteneth,"  leaving  Jane  to  make 
the  application  and  follow  her  at  the  same 
time. 

Then  they  found  themselves  in  a  trim 
little  garden. 

"How  sweet,"  said  the  niece. 

"You  can  see  I've  done  my  duty  by  it, 
too,"  said  Matilda;  "that's  my  way. 
I'm  hard  and  I  ain't  pretty  to  look  at,  but 
I  do  my  duty,  which  is  more'n  most  hand- 
some women  do.  Every  last  bean  here  is 

34 


MATILDA  TEACHES 

clawed  around  like  it  ought  to  be,  and  the 
whole  thing  neat  as  wax.  Same  with 
Susan ;  you'd  think  from  her  face  I'd 
murdered  her,  and  yet  the  Recording  Angel 
knows  she's  had  a  cold  sponge  and  every 
last  snarl  combed  out  of  her  hair  every 
day  since  I  came.  I  don't  boast,  but  I  do 
work." 

"Dear  me,  it's  a  long  way  from  the 
house,"  said  Jane,  forgetting  her  higher 
philosophy  for  the  minute. 

"It's  a  good  ten  minutes  to  get  here. 
A  picking  of  peas  is  a  half-hour's  job.  And 
ten  to  one,  when  I  get  back,  the  cat's  been 
at  the  cream." 

Jane  had  had  time  to  remember.  "I 
can  see  you've  been  awfully  good,"  she 
said  warmly,  "and  my,  but  you've  worked 
hard.  Everything  shows  that." 

Matilda's  face  flushed  with  pleasure, 
the  sudden  pathetic  flushing  of  unexpected 
appreciation.  "I  just  have,"  she  declared. 
"I've  worked  hard  all  my  life  and  done  a 
lot  of  good,  and  nobody's  ever  bothered 

35 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

to  thank  me.  She  don't.  She  just  lays 
there  and  lets  me  run  up  and  down  stairs 
and  climb  fences  and  dig  weeds  and  scamper 
back  and  forth  with  a  extra  hike,  when  I 
hear  the  bell  of  the  door,  till  it'll  be  a  mercy 
if  I  don't  get  neophytes  all  over,  and  the 
New  Asthma  in  both  legs,  I  think." 

After  a  brief  tour  of  the  tiny  whole, 
devoted  mainly  to  instructing  the  novice, 
Matilda  led  the  way  back  to  the  house. 

"Does  it  ever  need  watering?"  Jane 
asked,  lapsing  again  to  a  lower  level. 

"Sometimes,"  said  Matilda  briefly.  Jane 
hadn't  the  heart  to  say  another  word  until 
—  several  steps  further  on  —  it  occurred 
to  her  that  the  garden  also  could  be  only 
a  good  factor  in  God's  plan,  if  she  wreathed 
it  and  shrined  it  and  saw  it  in  her  world, 
as  He  saw  all  His  world  on  the  day  when  it 
was  first  manifest  and  set.  "And  God 
saw  everything  that  He  had  made,  and 
behold,  it  was  very  good." 


36 


CHAPTER  IV 

JANE   BEGINS   SUNSHINING 

stage  came  for  Matilda  at  eight 
o'clock.  For  half  an  hour  before  it 
could  possibly  be  due,  the  traveler  sat 
ready  on  a  chair  in  the  hall,  with  her  um- 
brella tightly  gripped  in  both  hands,  de- 
livering bits  of  useful  information  as  they 
occurred  to  her. 

"Be  careful  to  lock  up  well  every  night." 

"Remember  if  she  dies  sudden,  I  shall 
want  to  know  at  once." 

"Don't  look  to  enjoy  yourself,  but  re- 
member you're  doin'  a  act  of  Christian 
charity." 

Jane  sat  on  a  small,  hard  ottoman  in 
the  corner  by  the  whatnot  and  said :  "I'll 
try,"  or  "Yes,  indeed,"  every  time. 

"You're  a  good  girl,"  the  aunt  said 
37 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

finally.  "I'm  glad  to  know  you.  Those 
Rainy-day  Cooks  or  whatever  you  call 
yourself — " 

"Sunshine  Nurse." 

'Yes,  of  course,  —  well,  it's  a  good  idea. 
I  feel  perfectly  sure  you'll  do  everything 
you  know  how." 

:'Yes,  I  will,"  said  Jane,  resolving  all 
over  fresh  that  everything  was  going  to 
come  out  fine,  even  to  the  return  of  Matilda 
herself. 

"There,  I  hear  the  stage  on  the  bridge," 
said  her  aunt,  jumping  to  her  feet  suddenly. 
"I  must  go  and  say  good-by  to  Susan." 

"Isn't  she  still  asleep?" 

"It  doesn't  matter.  She's  my  only  living 
sister,  and  it's  my  duty  to  wake  her  up." 

She  rushed  up-stairs,  and  a  feeble  little 
yell  from  above  soon  announced  her  duty 
done.  Then  followed  a  brief  hum  and 
jabber,  and  then  she  came  running  down 
again. 

"Feels  bad  to  see  me  go,"  she  said  briefly. 
"That's  natural,  as  she's  turned  over  to 

38 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

you  body  and  soul  and  ain't  the  least  idea 
what  you're  like.  I  told  her  it  was  no  more 
chances  than  every  child  run  just  being 
born,  and  a  third  of  them  lived,  but  she 
never  could  see  reason,  —  kind  of  clung 
to  my  arm,  —  she's  my  only  sister,  and  it 
makes  me  feel  bad."  With  which  hasty 
statement  Matilda  gave  a  brief  dab  to 
each  eye,  put  up  her  pocket-handkerchief, 
and  opened  the  front  door.  Jane  had  her 
bag  in  her  hand,  and  they  had  carried  the 
trunk  to  the  gate  before. 

The  stage  was  empty,  and  the  driver  was 
tying  the  trunk-strap  with  a  rope. 

"Well,  good-by,"  said  Matilda;  "remem- 
ber to  lock  up  well  every  night." 

"Yes,  I  will,"  said  Jane.  "I  hope  you'll 
have  a  good  time  and  a  splendid  change." 

"I'm  sure  of  the  change,"  said  Matilda, 
swinging  herself  up  with  an  agility  bred  of 
her  liberal  diet  on  stiles.  "Five  years, — 
will  you  only  think  of  it?  " 

The  driver  picked  up  the  reins,  gave  them 
a  slap,  and  the  expedition  was  off. 

39 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Matilda  Drew  was  really  "gone  off  on  a 
visit." 

"Think  of  it,"  said  Katie  Croft,  who, 
despite  her  town-name  of  "Katie,"  was  a 
gray-haired  woman  of  fifty.  "Think  of 
it !  A  vacation  !  What  luck  some  folks 
have.  I  shall  never  have  a  vacation  in 
all  — "  her  voice  ceased,  and  she  continued 
sweeping  down  the  steps,  the  stage  passing 
out  of  sight  as  she  did  so. 

Meanwhile  Jane  had  re-entered  the  house 
and  carefully  closed  the  door  after  her. 
She  felt  curiously  freed  in  spirit,  and  that 
subtly  supreme  joy  of  seeing  a  helplessly 
bad  situation  delivered  bound  and  gagged 
into  one's  hands  to  be  mended  was  hers. 

"I'll  go  straight  and  ask  about  auntie's 
breakfast  first,"  she  thought,  mounting 
the  staircase.  To  her  light  tap  at  the 
door,  a  feeble  "come  in"  responded.  She 
entered  then  and  observed,  with  a  slight 
start,  that  the  invalid  had  just  been  up. 
The  blind  was  drawn,  and  a  pair  of  kicked- 
off  slippers  betrayed  a  hasty  jump  back 

40 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

into  bed.  Her  eyes  sought  Susan's  in 
explanation.  "I  didn't  know  that  you 
could  move  about,"  she  said,  with  a  pleased 
look. 

Susan's  little,  sharp  nose  had  an  apolo- 
getic appearance,  as  it  showed  over  the 
sheet-fold.  "I  can  get  about  a  little,  days 
when  I'm  strong,"  she  explained,  "and  I 
wanted  to  see  her  off.  I  wanted  to  see  if 
she  really  did  go."  She  paused,  gave  a 
sharp  choke  and  gasp,  and  then  waited. 

Jane  leaned  over  and  kissed  her  forehead. 
"I  will  try  very  hard  to  make  you  com- 
fortable and  happy,"  she  said  gently. 

Susan  rather  shrunk  together  in  the  bed. 
"What  kind  of  a  girl  are  you,  anyhow?" 
she  asked  suddenly  and  sharply.  "Are 
you  really  religious,  or  do  you  only  just  go 
to  church  ?  " 

"I  try  to  do  what's  right,"  her  niece 
answered  simply. 

The  invalid  contemplated  her  intently. 
"It  can  be  pretty  hard  living  with  any 
one  that  tries  to  do  right,"  she  said.  "  My 

41 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

experience   is    that   good   people   is    often 
more  trying  than  bad  ones.     Maybe  it's 
just  that  I've  had  more  to  do  with  them, 
though.     I  suppose  Matilda  told  you  about 
everything  and  the  garden  and  all  ?" 
"Yes,  I  think  I  know  what  to  see  to." 
"And  the  cat  ?  —  and  his  stealing  ?" 
"Yes,  she  told  me  about  him." 
"The  garden  must  be  weeded,"  Susan 
pronounced,   sinking  down  deep  into   the 
bed.     "Don't  you  ever  forget  that.     And 
that  cat  has  got  to  be  fed  —  and  well  fed, 
too  —  even  if  he  does  steal." 

Jane  watched  her  disappear  beneath  the 
bedclothes. 

"Auntie,"  she  said,  "I've  got  lots  of 
funny  ideas,  and  one  of  them  is  that  it's 
wicked  not  to  be  just  as  happy  as  possible 
every  minute.  Now  I'm  to  be  here  three 
weeks,  and  I  think  that  I  ought  to  be  able 
to  make  them  a  real  change  for  you  as  well 
as  for  Aunt  Matilda.  We'll  begin  with 
your  breakfast.  You  tell  me  what  you 
like  best,  and  I'll  fix  it  for  you  — " 

42 


JANE   BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

Susan's  head  came  up  out  of  the  bed- 
clothes with  the  suddenness  of  a  boy  rising 
from  a  dive.  "If  I  can  have  anything  I 
want,"  she  cried,  "I  want  some  hot  tea  - 
some  boiling  hot  tea,  some  tea  made  with 
water  that's  boiling  as  hard  as  it  can  boil. 
And  I  want  the  pot  hot.  Burning  hot 
before  the  tea  goes  in." 

Jane  started.  "I  thought  you  liked  your 
tea  cold." 

Susan's  eyes  fairly  snapped.  "Well,  I 
don't.  I  don't  like  nothing  cold.  I  like 
everything  hot." 

Jane  moved  towards  the  door.  "I'll 
go  and  make  some  right  away,"  she  said. 

Susan's  small,  bright  eyes  looked  after 
her  very  hard  indeed.  "I  wonder  if  you 
really  mean  what  you  say  about  my  doing 
what  I  please." 

"Of  course  I  mean  what  I  say." 

"Then  I  want  to  go  back  into  my  own 
room." 

The  niece  stopped.  "Isn't  this  your 
room  ?"  she  asked  in  surprise. 

43 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"No,  this  is  the  nearest  room  to  the  top 
of  the  stairs.  I'll  show  you  which  is  my 
room."  With  a  quick  leap  she  was  out 
of  bed. 

"Barefooted  !"  cried  Jane. 

"I'll  get  into  slippers  quick  enough,  and 
I  always  wear  stockings  in  bed.  It's  one 
of  my  peculiar  ways.  I'm  very  peculiar." 
She  was  running  out  of  the  room.  Jane 
followed,  astonished  at  the  strength  and 
steadiness  of  the  bedridden. 

"  But  I  thought  that  —  that  you  were 
always  in  bed,"  she  stammered. 

Susan  stopped  short  and  turned  about. 
"It  was  the  pleasantest  way  to  get  along," 
she  said  briefly.  "I  guess  that  you've  a 
really  kind  heart,  so  I'll  trust  you  and  tell 
you  the  truth.  Matilda  wasn't  here  very 
long  before  I  see  that  if  her  patience  wasn't 
to  give  out,  I'd  got  to  begin  to  fail.  I  went 
to  bed,  and  I've  failed  ever  since.  I've 
failed  steady.  It's  been  the  only  thing 
to  do.  It  wasn't  easy,  but  it  was  that  or 
have  things  a  lot  harder.  So  I  failed." 

44 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

Jane  stared  in  amazement,  and  then 
suddenly  the  fun  of  it  all  overcame  her, 
and  she  burst  out  laughing.  Susan  laughed, 
too.  "It  was  all  I  could  do,"  she  repeated 
over  and  over. 

"And  so  you  failed,"  said  her  niece,  still 
laughing. 

"Yes,  and  so  I  failed." 

"Mercy  on  us,  it's  the  funniest  thing  I 
ever  heard  in  all  my  life,"  exclaimed  the 
Sunshine  Nurse. 

"It  ain't  always  been  funny  for  me," 
said  Susan,  "but  come,  now,  I  want  to 
show  you  my  room." 

•  She  opened  a  door  as  she  spoke  and  led 
the  way  into  a  dark,  musty -smelling  place. 
It  was  the  work  of  only  a  minute  to  draw 
the  blind  and  throw  up  the  window. 
"Right  after  we've  had  breakfast,  we'll 
clean  it,"  the  aunt  declared,  "and  then 
I'll  move  right  back  in.  Husband  and  me 
had  this  room  for  twenty  long  years  to- 
gether. He  was  a  saving  man,  and  most 
of  what  he  was  intending  to  save  when  I 

45 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

wanted  to  buy  things  was  told  me  in  this 
room.  Whatever  I  wanted  he  always  said 
I  could  have,  and  then  when  it  came  night, 
he  said  I  couldn't.  The  room  is  full  of 
memories  for  me  —  sad  memories  —  but 
after  he  was  mercifully  snatched  to  ever- 
lasting blessedness,  I  grew  fond  of  it.  It's 


a  nice  room. 

H 


I  think  I'll  get  your  tea,"  said  Jane, 
"and  then  I'll  clean  this  room  and  help 
you  move  into  it.  We'll  have  you  all 
settled  before  noon." 

She  turned  and  ran  down  to  the  kitchen. 
The  kettle  was  singing,  and  she  stuffed 
more  wood  in  under  it  and  began  to  hunt 
for  a  tray  and  the  other  concomitants  of 
an  up-stairs  breakfast.  Things  were  not 
easily  found. 

"Well,  I  declare  !"  a  voice  at  the  window 
behind  her  exclaimed,  as  she  was  down  on 
her  knees  getting  a  tray-cloth  out  of  a 
lower  drawer.  The  voice  gave  her  a  vio- 
lent start,  being  a  man's.  She  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  faced  about. 

46 


JANE   BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

"I'm  sorry;  I  thought  you'd  know  me." 
It  was  the  artist  of  the  day  before,  the 
young  man  who  had  come  down  in  the 
stage. 

"It's  so  early."  She  went  to  the  window 
and  shook  hands.  "But  I'm  glad  to  see 
you,  anyhow." 

"I  always  get  up  at  six  and  walk  five 
miles  before  breakfast  when  I'm  in  the 
country,"  he  explained. 

"Do  you  really?     What  enterprise!" 

"And  so  this  is  where  you've  come. 
Why,  it's  the  quaintest  old  place  that  I 
ever  saw.  A  regular  tangle  of  picturesque 
possibilities.  Who  are  you  visiting?" 

"I'm  taking  care  of  my  invalid  aunt 
while  my  other  aunt  has  a  little  rest." 

"Is  she  very  ill?" 

"Oh,  no.  But  this  is  her  tea  that  I'm 
making,  and  I  must  take  it  up  to  her  now." 

"I'll  go,  then.  But  may  I  come  again 
—  and  sketch  ?" 

"I  can't  have  company.  I'll  be  too 
busy." 

47 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Can't  I  help  with  the  work  ?" 

He  was  so  pleasant  and  jolly  that  she 
couldn't  help  laughing.  "I'm  afraid  not," 
she  said,  shaking  her  head. 

He  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  window- 
sash.  "Do  you  know  my  name?"  he 
asked. 

"No." 

"It's  Lorenzo,  Lorenzo  Rath.  I've  to 
grow  famous  with  that  name.  Think  of 
it." 

She  laughed  again. 

"I  can  draw  the  outside  of  the  house, 
anyhow  —  can't  I  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  I  suppose  so,"  —  she  picked 
up  the  tray,  —  "you  must  go  now,  though. 
Good-by." 

"Good-by,"  he  cried  after  her. 

"Oh,  see  the  steam,"  was  Susan's  exult- 
ant exclamation,  as  she  entered  her  room. 
"I  ain't  seen  steam  coming  out  of  a  tea- 
pot's nose  for  upwards  of  three  years. 
Matilda  just  couldn't  seem  to  stand  my 
taking  my  tea  hot,  and  she's  my  only  sister, 

48 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSfflNING 

and  I  humor  her.     Who  was  you  talking 
to?" 

"A  man  who  came  down  on  the  stage 
yesterday.  He  was  out  walking  and  didn't 
know  that  I  lived  here." 

"Oh,  a  love  affair!"  cried  Susan,  in 
high-keyed  ecstasy.  "He's  fallen  in  love 
with  you,  and  like  enough  was  prowling 
around  all  night.  Oh  !  How  interesting  ! 
I  ain't  seen  a  love  affair  close  to  for 
years."  She  was  so  genuinely  joyful  that 
Jane  felt  sorry  to  dampen  the  enthusiasm. 

"I  don't  believe  you'll  see  one  now," 
she  said,  smiling  good-humoredly.  ;<You 
see,  I  don't  mean  to  marry,  Auntie.  I'm  a 
Sunshine  Nurse,  and  they  have  their  hands 
too  full  for  that  kind  of  thing." 

"A  nurse!  I  didn't  know  you  were  a 
nurse." 

"A  Sunshine  Nurse  is  a  person  who  does 
what  doctors  can't  always  do,  —  who  makes 
folk  well." 

"Are  you  going  to  make  me  well  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  resolutely. 
49 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Susan  stopped  eating  and  looked  at  her 
with  an  expression  full  of  contradictory 
feelings.  "I  shall  like  it,"  she  said  slowly. 
"But,  oh  my  !  Matilda  won't.  Why,  she 
— "  she  paused.  "Oh,  I  do  wonder  if  I 
can  trust  you  ?  " 

"Anybody  can  trust  me,"  said  Jane. 
"It's  part  of  my  training  to  be  honest." 

"Dear  me,  but  that's  a  good  idea," 
said  Susan,  with  sincerest  approval.  "  Well, 
if  I  can  trust  you,  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  that  it's  taken  considerable  care  for 
me  to  live  along  with  Matilda.  I  don't 
mean  anything  against  her  —  not  rat-poison 
nor  anything  like  that,  you  know  ?  —  but 
she  hasn't  just  approved  of  my  living ;  she's 
looked  upon  it  as  a  waste  of  her  time. 
And  I've  had  to  manage  pretty  careful 
in  consequence.  You  see,  she's  my  only 
sister,  and  she'd  have  my  property  anyhow, 
but  if  I  had  to  have  a  nurse  or  a  woman  to 
look  out  for  me  long,  there'd  be  no  prop- 
erty to  leave.  She's  real  sensible,  and  we 
both  know  just  how  it  is,  but  it's  been 

50 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSfflNING 

pleasantest  for  me  to  stay  more  and  more 
in  bed  and  kind  of  catch  at  things  as  I  walk, 
and  once  in  a  while  I  don't  eat  all  day,  and 
so  it  keeps  up  her  hope  and  keeps  things 
pleasant." 

Jane  looked  paralyzed.  "How  can  you 
go  without  food  all  day  ?  " 

Susan  considered  a  little.  Then  she 
took  a  big  drink  of  hot  tea  and  confessed. 
"I  don't  really.  I  watch  till  she  goes 
to  the  garden,  and  then  I  skip  down-stairs 
and  make  a  good  meal  and  lay  it  all  on 
the  cat." 

Jane  sank  down  on  the  foot  of  the  bed 
and  burst  out  laughing  again.  Again  she 
just  couldn't  help  it.  Susan  laughed,  too; 
first  softly  and  gingerly,  then  in  a  way 
almost  as  hearty  as  her  niece's. 

"Oh  me,  oh  my,"  the  latter  declared, 
after  a  minute,  wiping  her  eyes.  "Well, 
we'll  have  a  very  lively  three  weeks,  I 
see." 

"Oh,  yes,"  Susan  exclaimed,  "and  we'll 
have  liver  and  bacon,  and  I'll  see  the 

51 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

neighbors  when  they  come  in.  I  give  up 
seeing  them  because  it  made  so  much 
trouble,  and  the  way  I'm  made  is  —  '  Any- 
thing for  peace.'  That's  what  I  always 
used  to  say  to  husband,  whatever  he  said. 
First  along  I  used  to  say  real  things,  but 
all  the  last  years  I  just  said  whatever  he 
said;  anything  for  peace." 

:<  You've  finished  your  tea  now,"  said 
Jane,  rising.  "I'll  take  the  tray  down  while 
you  dress  a  bit,  and  then  we'll  move  you 
into  the  other  room." 

"Oh,  and  how  I  will  enjoy  it,"  cried 
Susan,  clasping  her  hands  in  ecstasy.  "  Oh, 
you  Sunshine  Jane,  you  —  how  glad  I  am 
you've  come." 

"I'm  glad,  too,"  said  Jane.  "We'll  have 
an  awfully  nice  time." 

She  ran  down-stairs  with  the  tray  and 
found  Madeleine  sitting  in  the  kitchen, 
waiting.  "Why,  how  long  have  you  been 
here?"  she  asked. 

Madeleine  lifted  a  rather  mournful  coun- 
tenance and  tried  to  smile.  "Oh,  Miss 

52 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

Grey.  I'm  so  blue.  I  can't  stand  this 
place  at  all,  I  don't  believe.  My  situa- 
tion is  going  to  be  unbearable." 

''What's  the  matter  with  it  ?" 

"It's  so  small  and  petty  and  spiteful. 
All  last  evening  I  had  to  sit  and  listen  to 
gossip.  I  hate  personalities.  Why,  what- 
ever I  do  is  going  to  be  seen  and  talked 
about  the  minute  I  do  it." 

Jane  looked  grave.  "That  nice  woman 
who  came  out  to  meet  you  didn't  look  like 
a  gossip." 

"She  isn't,  but  she  sits  and  listens,  and 
every  once  in  a  while  she  throws  oil  on 
the  fire  by  saying,  '/  never  believed  the 
story.'" 

"Who  did  the  talking?" 

"The  neighbors  —  a  woman  named  Mrs. 
Mead,  who  came  in  with  her  daughter. 
The  mother  was  old-fashioned  in  her  ideas, 
and  the  daughter  was  new.  That  old 
man  in  the  stage  stopped  there,  you 
know." 

"My  aunt  spoke  of  them  last  evening," 
53 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

said  Jane;  "she  said  that  Emily  Mead 
was  picked  out  to  marry  that  young  man 
who  came  down  with  us." 

Madeleine  laughed  and  then  blushed. 
"I'm  afraid  not,"  she  said.  "I  know  him. 
He  won't  marry  anybody  here." 

Jane  turned  and  began  to  put  away  the 
breakfast  things. 

"  Don't  be  bored,"  she  said  gently.  "  Put 
on  this  extra  apron,  and  help  me  wash 
these  dishes ;  and  then  I'll  set  the  kitchen 
to  rights  and  get  ready  to  move  my  aunt 
into  another  bedroom.  She's  an  invalid, 
you  know." 

"What  kind  of  a  person  is  your  aunt?" 

"Awfully  nice,"  began  Jane,  but  was 
stopped  by  the  sudden  opening  of  the  hall 
door. 

There  stood  Susan,  all  dressed. 

"It  seems  good  to  have  clothes  on  again," 
she  remarked  calmly ;  "I  ain't  been  dressed 
for  upwards  of  three  years." 

Then  she  saw  Madeleine.  "How  do 
you  do,"  she  said,  holding  out  her  hand. 

54 


JANE   BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

"I  suppose  you're  the  Miss  Mar  from 
Deborah's?" 

''  Yes, lam,"  Madeleine  admitted,  smiling. 

"My,  but  you  look  good  to  me,"  said 
Susan;  "it's  so  nice  to  see  a  strange  face. 
You  see,  I've  been  in  bed  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  give  up  seeing  strangers  long  be- 
fore that."  She  sat  down  on  one  of  the 
kitchen  chairs  and  beamed  on  them  both, 
turn  and  turn  about.  "Husband  always 
thought  that  strangers  was  pickpockets," 
she  said,  "but  I  like  to  look  at  'em.  My, 
but  I  will  enjoy  these  next  weeks.  You 
see,  I  live  with  my  sister,"  she  explained  to 
Madeleine,  "and  I've  had  a  pretty  hard 
time.  My  sister's  got  a  good  heart,  but 
maybe  you  know  how  awful  hard  it  is  to 
live  with  that  kind  of  people.  It's  been 
pleasanter  to  stay  in  bed." 

"But  you  won't  do  that  any  more, 
Auntie,"  said  Jane,  moving  busily  about. 

"No,  indeed  I  won't.  You  see,"  again 
to  Madeleine,  "she  was  my  only  sister,  so 
I  humored  her.  It's  the  only  way  to  get 

55 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

on  with  some  people.  But  you  can  even 
humor  folks  too  much,  and  she  got  a  disease 
they  call  the  Euphrates  all  up  and  down 
her  ear  and  her  elbow,  just  from  being 
humored  too  much.  So  she's  gone  off  for 
a  change." 

"What  are  you  doing  ?"  Madeleine  asked 
Jane. 

"Making  waffles.  I  thought  it  would 
be  fun  to  eat  them  hot  right  now." 

Susan  fairly  shrieked  with  joy.  "I  ain't 
so  much  as  smelt  one  since  husband  died. 
Waffles  in  the  morning,  and  I'm  so  awful 
hungry,  too.  Oh,  Jane,  the  Lord  will 
surely  set  a  crown  of  glory  on  your  head 
the  minute  He  sees  it.  Your  feet  won't 
be  into  heaven  when  the  crown  goes  on. 
How  did  you  ever  think  of  it  ?  " 

Jane  brought  out  the  iron,  laughing  as 
she  did  so.  "Why,  Auntie,  it's  part  of 
my  training." 

"  Cooking  waffles  in  the  morning  ?  " 

"No.  Giving  joy.  If  I  think  of  any 
way  to  give  pleasure  and  don't  do  it,  I 

56 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

count  it  a  sin.     To  make  more  happiness  is 
all  the  work  of  a  Sunshine  Nurse." 

"Isn't  that  splendid  ?"  Susan  appealed  to 
Madeleine. 

Madeleine's  great,  beautiful  eyes  were 
lifted  towards  the  other  girl's  face  with  an 
expression  mysterious  in  its  longing. 
"Teach  me  the  gift,"  she  said;  "I  want  to 
make  more  happiness,  too." 

"We'll  be  her  class,"  exclaimed  Susan, 
"just  you  and  me." 

"The  first  lesson  is  eating  waffles,"  Jane 
announced  solemnly. 

"And  me,  too,"  cried  a  voice  in  the 
kitchen  window,  and  there  was  Lorenzo 
Rath  back  for  his  second  call  that  day,  and 
it  not  yet  ten  o'clock.  "I've  been  to  Mrs. 
Cowmull's  and  eaten  breakfast,  and  I'm  as 
hungry  as  a  wolf."  He  came  in  through 
the  window  as  he  spoke. 

"Oh,  a  young  man  !"  cried  Susan.  "I 
ain't  seen  a  young  man  since  the  last  time 
the  pump  broke.  Oh,  my !  Ain't  this 
jolly?  Ain't  this  fun?" 

57 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"You  show  Madeleine  where  to  find 
plates  and  forks  and  knives,  Auntie," 
said  Jane.  "Here,  Mr.  Rath,  I'll  break 
two  more  eggs  and  you  can  beat  them.  I 
haven't  made  enough  batter,  if  there's  a 
man  to  eat,  too." 

"I  feel  as  if  I'd  leave  Mrs.  Cowmull's 
to-morrow  and  come  here  to  board,"  said 
Lorenzo.  "  Could  I  ?  "  His  tone  was  very 
earnest. 

"No,  you  couldn't,"  said  Jane  firmly. 

"Oh,  let  him,"  exclaimed  Susan,  from  the 
pantry,  where  she  was  getting  out  plates. 
"It'll  make  Mrs.  Cowmull  so  mad,  and  I 
ain't  made  any  one  mad  for  years  and  years. 
I'd  so  revel  to  be  human  again.  And  it 
would  be  so  nice  having  a  man  about,  too." 

"I  couldn't  think  of  it,"  said  Jane,  getting 
very  crimson. 

Madeleine  looked  at  the  artist. 

"Then  I  shall  leave  Mrs.  Cowmull's, 
anyway,"  said  Lorenzo,  decidedly;  "I  shall 
look  up  another  place  at  once.  Why,  that 
woman  would  drive  me  mad.  She  says 

58 


JANE  BEGINS  SUNSHINING 

something  ridiculous  every  time  she  opens 
her  mouth.  She  asked  me  this  morning 
if  I'd  ever  climbed  to  the  top  of  the 
Kreutzer  Sonata." 

"What  did  you  say?"  Madeleine  asked. 

"I  told  her  no,  but  I'd  been  to  the  bottom 
of  the  Campanile  and  seen  them  getting 
out  coal  from  the  mine  there." 

"Well,  that  showed  you'd  seen  some 
sights,  anyhow,"  said  Susan,  placidly. 

"The  waffles  are  done  !"  Jane  announced. 
They  all  drew  up  round  the  table. 

"This  is  living,"  the  invalid  exclaimed. 
"If  my  sister  would  only  never  come  back  !" 

"Maybe  she  won't !"  suggested  Lorenzo. 

"I  wouldn't  like  her  to  die,"  said  Susan, 
gravely.  "I'm  sensitive  over  feeling  people 
better  off  dead.  But  if  she'd  marry,  it  would 
be  nice." 

"  For  the  man  ?  "  queried  Lorenzo. 

"For  us  all,"  said  Susan,  gravely. 

"Just  exactly  the  right  thing  is  going  to 
happen  to  her  and  everybody,"  said  Jane, 
firmly  —  dividing  the  waffles  as  she  spoke. 

59 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Are  you  so  sure?"  the  artist  asked, 
looking  a  little  amused. 

Susan  noticed  the  look.  "She's  a  Sun- 
shine Nurse,"  she  explained  quickly.  "It's 
her  religion  to  be  like  that.  She  can't 
help  it.  She's  promised. " 


60 


CHAPTER  V 

A  CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

IT  didn't  take  long  for  the  town  to  wake  up 
to  the  fact  that  some  new  element  had 
entered  into  its  composition. 

"I  can't  get  over  it,  Susan  Ralston's 
being  up  and  about,"  Miss  Debby  Vane 
said  distressedly  to  Mrs.  Mead.  "Why, 
she  was  'most  dead  !" 

"Matilda  ought  not  to  have  gone  away," 
Mrs.  Mead  said  sternly.  "Sick  folks  in 
bed  can't  bear  a  change.  A  new  face 
gives  them  a  little  spurt  of  strength,  and 
then  when  they  see  the  old  face  again,  they 
kind  of  give  up  hope  and  drop  right  off." 

"Yes,  I  know  that,"  said  Miss  Debby; 
"my  father  had  a  cousin  die  that  way. 
There  was  a  doctor  going  about  in  a  wagon, 
pulling  teeth  and  giving  shocks,  and  he  said 
he'd  give  Cousin  Hannah  a  shock  and  cure 

61 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

her.  So  they  took  him  up-stairs,  and  there 
she  was  dead  of  heart  disease.  They 
thought  of  prosecuting  him,  but  the  funeral 
coming  right  on  they  hadn't  time,  and 
then  he  was  gone  to  another  place,  and  it 
seemed  too  much  bother." 

"That  girl  is  just  the  same  kind,  I  be- 
lieve," said  Mrs.  Mead;  "that  dreadful 
way  of  making  you  feel  that  after  all  what 
she  says  is  pretty  sensible,  maybe.  My 
Emily  is  awfully  took  with  her,  and  Father's 
just  crazy  about  her.  He  come  down  on 
the  stage  with  her,  and  then  he  went  out  to 
see  her.  She  knows  how  to  get  around  men ; 
she  was  frying  doughnuts." 

"Yes,  and  Mrs.  Cowmull's  artist  was 
out  there,  and  they  had  waffles  in  the  middle 
of  the  morning.  That's  a  funny  kind  of 
new  religion." 

"Has  she  got  a  new  religion?"  Miss 
Debby  looked  frightened.  "I  hadn't  heard 
of  it." 

"Why,  yes;  Emily  says  she's  got  the 
funniest  religion  you  ever  heard  of.  What- 

62 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

ever  she  wants  to  do  or  don't  want  to  do, 
she  says  it's  her  religion." 

"Dear  me,  but  I  should  think  that  that 
would  be  very  convenient,"  said  Miss 
Debby,  much  impressed.  "Why,  my  re- 
ligion is  always  just  the  opposite  of  what  I 
want  to  do  or  don't  want  to  do.  It  says 
so  every  Sunday,  you  know,  —  *  we  have 
done  those  things,'  and  so  forth." 

"Hers  is  different,"  said  Mrs.  Mead. 

"Well,  I  declare,"  repeated  Miss  Debby; 
then,  suddenly,  "I  remember  now  that 
Madeleine  said  that  they  had  waffles  be- 
cause Jane  said  that  she  thought  waffles 
would  taste  good,  and  it  was  her  religion 
to  do  whatever  you  thought  of  right  off. 
Well,  I  declare!" 

Both  ladies  stared  in  solemn  amazement 
at  one  another. 

"This'll  be  a  nice  town  to  live  in,  if  she 
sets  everybody  to  doing  whatever  you  like, 
because  it's  right,"  Mrs.  Mead  said  finally. 
"Father  won't  put  on  his  coat  again  this 
summer." 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"It'll  make  a  great  difference  in  the  feel- 
ing of  the  town,"  said  Miss  Debby,  mysteri- 
ously, "a  great  difference.  Well,  I  hope 
it  won't  change  Madeleine  any  way  her 
family  won't  approve.  Madeleine's  in  love, 
and  I  suppose  it's  Mr.  Rath.  They  knew 
each  other  before,  and  her  family  don't 
want  it.  I've  pieced  it  all]out  of  scraps." 

"Oh,  dear  !"  said  Emily  Mead's  mother, 
her  face  falling;  "my,  I  hadn't  heard  but 
what  he  was  a  free  man." 

"Oh,  no,"  said  Miss  Debby,  "your  sister 
isn't  sure.  But  everybody  else  is.  My  own 
view  of  artists  is  they're  deluders  and  snares. 
I  give  an  artist  a  picture  and  a  dollar  once 
to  enlarge,  and  that  was  the  last  I  ever  heard 
of  them  both  —  of  all  three." 
.  "I  wonder  if  Emily  knows  Mr.  Rath's 
engaged,"  said  Mrs.  Mead,  sadly.  "  Dear  me, 
I  never  thought  of  that." 

"Not  engaged,  but  in  love,"  corrected 
Miss  Debby. 

"Perhaps  he's  a  real  artist  and  change- 
able," suggested  Mrs.  Mead. 

64 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

:' There's  no  comfort  in  that  for  any  one, 
'cause  if  he'll  change  once,  he'll  change  right 
along." 

Mrs.  Mead  sighed  very  heavily.  "Well, 
I  must  keep  up  for  Father  and  Emily," 
she  remarked,  not  tracing  any  very  clear 
connection  between  word  and  deed. 

:<  Yes,"  said  Miss  Debby,  "y°u  must,  and 
we'll  all  keep  a  sharp  eye  on  these  new  kind 
of  ways  of  looking  at  things,  for  we  don't 
know  where  they'll  end." 

The  "new  way  of  looking  at  things"  had 
already  been  very  efficacious  in  the  house 
at  the  other  end  of  the  street.  It  had 
assumed  an  utterly  new  appearance,  both 
outside  and  in. 

"And  I  never  felt  nothing  like  the  change 
in  the  feel  of  it,"  Susan  exclaimed  that 
afternoon,  as  she  re-arranged  her  belongings 
in  her  own  room.  "Oh,  you  Sunshine 
Jane,  you,  you've  just  sunshone  into  every 
room,  and  I'm  so  happy  turning  my  things 
about  I  don't  know  what  to  do.  Matilda 
wouldn't  never  let  me  turn  a  china  cow 

65 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

other  end  to,  and  I've  lived  with  some  of 
the  ornaments  facing  wrong  for  the  whole 
of  these  five  long  years." 

"It  isn't  me,  Auntie,"  said  Jane,  washing 
shelves  with  the  hearty  and  happy  energy 
which  she  threw  into  every  task  in  which 
she  engaged  ;  "it's  the  opening  of  the  win- 
dows and  the  letting  in  of  God  and  His 
sunshine  together.  I'll  soon  have  time  to 
clean  the  whole  house,  and  then  we'll 
have  fun  re-arranging  every  room.  You've 
such  pretty  things,  and  they  must  be 
rubbed  up  and  given  a  chance  to  play  a 
part  in  the  world.  God  never  meant  any- 
thing to  be  idle,  —  not  even  a  brass  andiron. 
If  it  can't  work,  it  can  shine  and  be  cheerful, 
anyway.  What  can't  smile  ought  to  shine, 
you  know." 

"I  wonder  why  rubbing  things  makes  'em 
bright,"  said  Susan,  opening  her  bonnet- 
box  and  hitting  her  bonnet  a  smart  cuff  to 
knock  dust  out  of  the  folds.  "  I  never  could 
understand  that." 

"It's  your  individuality  that  you  transfer 
66 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

till  the  poor  dull  things  get  enough  of  it  to 
shine  alone,  without  anybody's  help." 

"What  a  good  reason,"  said  Susan. 
"My,  to  think  maybe  I'll  go  to  church 
again  in  this  bonnet !  Matilda  was  always 
wanting  to  rip  it  up,  but  something  made 
me  cling  to  it.  It's  a  kind  of  souvenir. 
I  wore  it  to  husband's  funeral  and  my  last 
picnic,  and  there  are  lots  of  other  pleasant 
memories  inside  it." 

"I'll  freshen  it  up  with  a  cloth  dipped  in 
ammonia,"  said  Jane.  "Dear  me,  how  I  do 
enjoy  washing  shelves.  I  love  to  sop  the 
soapy  water  over  and  mop  the  corners, 
and  dry  the  whole,  and  fit  a  clean  news- 
paper in,  and  then  see  the  closet  in  perfect 
order." 

"You  like  to  do  everything,  seems  to  me," 
said  Susan. 

:'Yes,  I  do.  I've  been  led  to  see  that 
doing  things  well  is  about  the  finest  way 
in  which  one  can  pass  one's  time.  And  I'm 
crazy  over  doing  things  well.  If  I  fold  a 
towel,  I  like  to  fold  it  just  square,  and  if  I 

67 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

make  a  bed,  I  want  the  fold  in  the  spread 
and  the  fold  in  the  sheet  to  meet  even." 

:<  You'll  make  a  fine  wife,  Jane,"  said 
Susan,  gravely,  "only  no  man'll  ever  ap- 
preciate the  folds  lying  straight." 

Jane  laughed  merrily.  "I'm  never  going 
to  marry ;  I'm  one  of  the  new  sex,  the 
creatures  who  are  born  to  live  alone  and 
lend  a  hand  anywhere.  Didn't  you  know 
that?" 

"That's  nonsense,"  said  Susan;  "no 
woman's  made  so." 

"No.  It's  a  big  fact.  One  of  the  newest 
facts  in  the  world.  The  New  Woman,  you 
know!" 

"Mercy  on  us,"  said  Susan,  "don't 
you  go  in  for  any  of  that,  nonsense.  The 
idea  of  a  girl  like  you  deciding  not  to  marry  ! 
I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  !" 

"It's  so,  though,"  said  Jane,  smiling 
brightly;  "you  see,  my  little  Order  is  a  kind 
of  Sisterhood.  We're  taught  to  want  to 
help  in  so  many  homes  and  to  never  even 
think  of  a  home  of  our  own.  We're  taught 

68 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

to  love  all  children  so  dearly  that  we  mustn't 
limit  ourselves  to  one  family  of  little  ones. 
We're  trained  to  be  so  fond  of  the  best  in 
every  man  that  we  see  more  good  to  be  done 
as  sisters  to  men  than  as  wives." 

"I  don't  believe  Mr.  Rath  will  agree  with 
you,"  said  Susan,  "nor  any  other  real  nice 
fellow." 

Jane  was  cutting  paper  for  the  shelves. 
"Yes,  he  will,"  she  said,  nodding  con- 
fidently; "men  are  so  scarce  nowadays 
that  they  are  ready  to  agree  with  any 
one." 

"Jane,  /  think  he's  in  love  with  you  al- 
ready." Susan's  tone  was  very  solemn. 

Jane  merely  laughed. 

Then  the  door-bell  rang,  and  she  had  to 
run.  Presently  she  was  back,  a  little 
breathless.  "It's  Mrs.  Mead  and  her 
daughter.  Can  you  come  down  ?" 

"Yes,  in  a  minute.  You  say,  in  a 
minute." 

Jane  ran  down  again  with  the  message. 

"Most   remarkable,"    said    Mrs.    Mead, 
69 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

now  dressed  for  calling,  with  her  black 
hair  put  back  in  three  even  crinkles  on 
either  side,  "about  your  aunt,  you  know, 
I  mean.  Why,  we  looked  upon  her  as  'most 
dead.  You  know,  Emily,  we've  always 
been  given  to  understand  she  was  nearing 
her  end." 

"It  does  an  invalid  a  lot  of  good  to  have 
something  new  to  think  about,"  said  Jane. 
"I'm  very  enlivening.  Aunt  Susan  just 
couldn't  help  getting  up,  when  she  heard 
me  upsetting  her  house  in  all  directions." 

:' Yes,  I  expect  it  was  enough  to  make  her 
nervous,"  said  Mrs.  Mead, sincerely.  "How 
long  are  you  going  to  stay  ?" 

"Until  Aunt  Matilda  comes  back." 

"I  don't  believe  she'll  like  these  changes," 
said  Mrs.  Mead,  gravely.  "I  should  think 
that  you'd  feel  a  good  deal  of  respon- 
sibility. It's  no  light  matter  to  leave  a 
shut-up  house  and  an  invalid  in  bed  to  a 
niece  and  come  home  to  find  the  house 
open  and  the  invalid  all  over  it." 

"And  a  man  coming  in  and  having  waffles 
70 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

in  the  morning,"  said  Emily  Mead,  with  a 
smile  meant  to  be  arch. 

Jane  laughed.  "That  was  dreadful, 
wasn't  it?"  she  said,  twinkling  —  "it  was 
all  so  impromptu  and  funny.  And  every- 
body had  such  a  good  time.  It  just  popped 
into  my  head,  and  you  see  it's  my  religion 
to  have  to  do  anything  that  you  think  will 
make  people  happy,  if  you  see  a  chance." 

"Yes,  we've  heard  about  your  religion," 
said  Mrs.  Mead;  "dear  me,  I  should  think 
you'd  get  into  a  lot  of  trouble  !  Waffles  in 
the  morning  would  upset  some  folks,  except 
on  Sunday." 

"Perhaps  most  people  haven't  enough 
religion  to  manage  them  week-days,"  Jane 
suggested. 

"My  aunt,  Mrs.  Cowmull,  says  Mr.  Rath 
could  hardly  eat  any  lunch,"  observed 
Emily,  smiling  some  more. 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Jane,  "but  I'm  not 
surprised.  Aunt  Susan  couldn't,  either." 

Mrs .  Mead  coughed  significantly .  ' '  Susan 
Ralston's  pretty  delicate  to  stand  many  new 

71 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

ideas,  I  should  think,"  she  began,  but 
stopped  suddenly  as  Susan  entered,  and 
viewed  her  with  an  expression  of  shocked 
surprise. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Ralston,  I'd  no  idea  you 
were  so  well.  Where  have  you  kept  your- 
self these  last  years,  if  you  were  so  well  ?" 

"In  my  own  room,"  said  Susan,  with 
dignity.  "I  didn't  see  no  special  call  to 
come  down.  Matilda  knew  where  every- 
thing was,  but  Jane  doesn't,  so  I've  changed 
my  ways  for  a  little." 

Jane  took  her  hand  and  pressed  it  affec- 
tionately. The  sunshine  seeds  were  sprout- 
ing finely.  "Don't  you  want  to  come  out 
into  the  garden  with  me  ?"  she  asked  Emily 
Mead,  and  Emily  rose  at  once.  "I  thought 
auntie  would  enjoy  visiting  alone  with  her 
old  friend,"  she  added,  as  they  passed 
through  the  hall. 

"What  are  you,  anyway?"  Emily  asked 
curiously.  "I've  heard  you  were  a  trained 
nurse,  —  are  you  ?  " 

"I'm  one  of  the  brand-new  women," 
72 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

said  Jane;  "not  a  Suffragette,  nor  an  ad- 
vanced anything,  but  just  a  creature  who 
means  to  give  her  life  up  to  teaching  hap- 
piness as  an  art." 

"Yes,  I  heard  that.  But  how  do  you  do 
it  ?"  asked  Emily  Mead. 

"By  being  happy  and  thinking  happy 
thoughts  and  doing  happy  things." 

Emily  considered.  "But  don't  you  ever 
have  hard  things  to  do  ?" 

"Never.  I  enjoy  them  all  —  I  love  to 
work." 

Emily  looked  at  her  wonderingly.  "But 
washing  dishes  ?  —  We  don't  keep  a  girl, 
and  I  hate  washing  dishes.  What  would 
you  say  to  them  ?" 

Jane  laughed.  "What,  those  two  lovely 
tin  pans  and  that  nice  boiling  kettle  ? 
And  all  the  dirty  plates  sinking  under  the 
soap-suds  and  then  piling  up  under  the  clean 
hot  water.  And  the  shining  dry  ness  and 
the  putting  them  on  the  shelves  all  in  their 
own  piles.  And  then  the  knowing  that 
God  wanted  those  dishes  washed,  and  that 

73 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

you've  done  them  just  exactly  as  He'd 
like  to  see  them  done.  Why,  I  think  dish- 
washing is  grand  !" 

Emily  opened  her  eyes  widely.  "How 
funny  you  are  !  I  never  heard  such  talk 
before  !  But,  then,  you've  lived  in  a  big 
city  and  learned  to  think  in  a  big  way. 
You  wouldn't  see  dish-washing  so  if  you'd 
done  it  all  your  life  and  never  been  told  it 
was  nice.  You  couldn't." 

"But  you've  been  told  now,"  said  Jane, 
"  and  no  work  need  ever  seem  horrid  to  you 
again.  Just  look  at  it  in  my  way  after 
this." 

"But  all  work  seems  horrid  to  me.  I'd 
like  to  marry  an  awfully  rich  man  and  never 
see  this  place  again.  I  hate  it." 

Jane  thought  a  minute;  then  said  in 
sweet,  low,  even  tones  :  "You  won't  evolve 
any  man  fit  to  marry  out  of  that  spirit,  you 
know." 

The  other  girl  stared  at  her.     "Evolve  ! " 

"Yes.  Don't  you  know  that  every 
minute  in  this  world  is  the  result  of  all  the 

74 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

minutes  that  have  gone  before,  and  that 
who  we  marry  is  part  of  a  result  —  not 
just  an  accident  ?  " 

"What?" 

"Don't  you  know  that?  Don't  you 
understand  ?  " 

"Not  a  bit.     Tell  me  what  you  mean  ?" 

"It's  too  long  to  explain  right  this 
minute,  because  one  can't  tell  such  things 
quickly,  and  if  you've  never  studied  them, 
you  haven't  the  brain-cells  to  receive  them. 
You  see  brain-cells  are  the  houses  for 
thoughts,  and  they  have  to  be  built  and 
ready  before  the  thoughts  can  move  in. 
That's  what  they  told  me,  when  I  was 
learning." 

Emily  looked  at  her  in  bewilderment. 

"It's  very  interesting,"  said  Jane.  "I 
think  that  it's  the  most  interesting  thing 
in  the  whole  world.  You  see,  I  didn't 
have  any  life  at  all ;  I  was  an  orphan  and 
not  very  bright.  And  then  I  happened 
to  get  hold  of  a  book  that  said  that  all  the 
life  there  was  in  the  world  was  mine,  if 

75 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

I'd  just  take  it.  So  I  wrote  to  the  man  who 
wrote  the  book — " 

"How  did  you  ever  dare  ?" 

"Why,  I  knew  that  the  man  who  wrote 
that  book  would  help  any  one  —  he  couldn't 
have  written  the  book  if  he  hadn't  been 
made  to  help  people  —  and  I  asked  him 
how  I  could  begin." 

"What  did  he  answer?" 

"He  said:  'Seize  every  chance  to  prove 
your  mind  the  master  of  your  own  body 
first,  and  when  you  are  thoroughly  master 
of  yourself,  you  can  master  all  else.' ' 

"What  did  he  mean?" 

"Well,  I  took  it  that  he  meant  me  to  do 
anything  that  I  thought  of,  right  off,  and 
that  if  I  got  in  the  habit  of  sweeping  all 
work  out  of  my  small  way,  I'd  soon  be 
given  a  chance  at  big  work  in  a  big  way." 

"And  were  you  ?" 

"Yes.  I  began  to  get  through  so  quick 
—  I  lived  with  an  uncle  and  helped  his  wife 
with  the  sewing  and  the  children  —  that 
I  had  some  spare  time,  and  I  went  into  the 

76 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

kitchen  and  learned  to  cook.  Then  one  of 
the  children  was  ill,  and  the  doctor  thought 
I'd  make  a  good  nurse,  so  he  got  me  into  a 
hospital,  and  I  met  a  woman  there  who  had 
all  the  books  that  I  wanted  to  read  and  who 
just  took  hold  and  helped  me  right  out. 
I  saw  that  I  didn't  want  to  be  a  sick-nurse, 
because  there's  such  a  lot  of  humbug  and 
such  a  lot  that's  silly,  and  my  friend  said 
that  I  was  one  who  would  evolve  oppor- 
tunities - 

"What  does  that  mean  ?" 

"Evolve  means  to  sort  of  develop  out  of 
the  world  and  yourself  together  at  the  same 
time." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"Why,  if  you  want  anything,  you  want  it 
because  it's  there,  and  you  can  get  it  if  you've 
got  the  strength  and  perseverance  to  build 
a  road  to  it." 

"What!" 

"I  mean  just  what  I  say.  We  can  get 
anything,  if  we  have  sufficient  will-power 
to  build  a  way  right  straight  to  it." 

77 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Suppose  I  want  to  marry  a  millionaire  ?  " 

"It  would  mean  a  lot  of  well-directed 
effort,  and  the  effort  would  slowly  train 
you  to  want  something  much  better  than 
to  live  rich  and  idle."  Jane  paused  a 
minute,  and  Emily  looked  at  her  curiously. 
"If  you  want  to  marry  a  millionaire  bad 
enough  to  start  in  and  make  yourself  all 
over  new,  you'll  have  such  control  over 
your  future  that  I  think  you'll  get  some- 
thing much  better  than  a  millionaire." 

"I  never  heard  any  one  like  you  in  all  my 
life,"  said  Emily  Mead. 

"I'd  be  so  glad  to  help  you  straight 
along,"  Jane  said.  "I've  got  two  books 
with  me,  and  you  can  read  one  and  then  the 
other.  Then  you'll  get  where  you  can  get 
the  meaning  out  of  the  Bible,  and  then 
you'll  begin  to  see  the  meaning  of  every- 
thing. The  world  gets  so  wonderful.  You 
see  miracles  everywhere.  You  feel  so  well. 
The  sun  shines  so  bright.  Life  becomes  so 
lovely." 

Emily  looked  at  her  with  real  wonder. 
78 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

"How  did  you  happen  to  come  here  ?"  she 
asked. 

"Oh,  that  came  long  after  all  the  rest  of 
i^he  story.  One  day  I  remembered  that 
my  mother  had  two  sisters,  and  I  wrote 
to  them.  My  letter  arrived  just  as  Aunt 
Matilda's  arm  began  to  trouble  her,  and 
she  asked  me  if  I  could  come  for  a  visit. 
You  see  that  was  another  opportunity  I 
evolved." 

Emily  seized  her  hand  impulsively.  "I'm 
so  glad  that  you  came.  I'm  going  to  try, 
and  you'll  help  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  will.  Would  you  like 
one  of  the  books  right  now?" 

"Oh,  I  should." 

"I'll  get  it  for  you,  and  then  I'll  tell  you 
some  day  about  the  doctor  I  met  and  his 
Sunshine  Order." 

They  went  towards  the  house.  "You 
mustn't  expect  to  understand  everything 
right  off,  you  know,"  Jane  said  to  her 
gently.  "You  see  this  is  all  new  to  you, 
and  that  means  that  you  can't  any  more 

79 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

understand  right  off  than  you  could  paint 
a  picture  right  off.  You  have  to  learn 
gradually." 

"But  I  mean  to  learn,"  said  Emily. 

They  went  in  the  door,  and  Jane  ran  up- 
stairs and  fetched  the  book.  "There!" 
she  said,  "you  read  it,  and  I'll  help  you 
all  I  can.  You  see  the  thing  is  to  learn 
with  your  whole  heart  to  do  God's  will, 
and  then,  in  some  strange,  subtle  way, 
you  get  to  feel  what  is  coming  and  to  sort 
of  shape  all.  It's  so  fascinating  and  thrill- 
ing to  realize  that  what  you  want  is  march- 
ing towards  you  as  fast  as  you  can  march 
towards  it." 

"What  do  you  want?"  Emily  asked. 

"I  want  to  do  exactly  what  I'm  doing," 
said  Jane,  very  quietly.  "  I've  passed  want- 
ing anything  else.  I  want  lots  of  chances 
to  teach  and  help,  —  that's  all." 

"Don't  you  want  to  marry  ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  —  I  want  to  be  able  to  teach 
and  help  everywhere.  I  don't  want  things 
for  myself,  somehow." 

80 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

"How  strange  !" 

They  went  into  the  sitting-room. 

"Oh,  Jane,"  Susan  cried,  "how  I  have 
enjoyed  hearing  about  everybody  in  town  ! 
Sister  never  told  me  about  Eddy  King's 
running  off  with  the  store  cash  or  Mrs. 
Wilton's  daughter  going  to  cooking-school, 
or  one  thing." 

"We  must  be  going,"  said  Mrs.  Mead, 
rising;  "we'll  come  again,  though.  It's 
good  to  see  you  up,  Mrs.  Ralston,  and  I 
only  hope  you  may  stay  up.  You  know 
Katie  Croft's  mother-in-law  got  up  just  as 
you  have  and  then  had  a  stroke  that  night." 

"Oh,  is  old  Mrs.  Croft  dead  ?" 

"No,  she  isn't,"  said  Mrs.  Mead;  "if 
she  was,  she  wouldn't  be  such  a  warning 
as  she  is." 

"Dear,  dear,"  said  Susan,  "think  of  all 
I've  missed.  Has  she  got  it  just  in  her 
legs  or  all  over  ?  Matilda  never  told  me." 

"Legs,"  said  Mrs.  Mead,  "and  it's 
affected  her  temper.  Katie  has  an  awful 
time  with  her." 

81 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Dear,  dear,"  said  Susan  again,  —  "and, 
oh,  Jane,  a  boy  I've  known  since  he  was  a 
baby  has  had  his  skull  japanned  and  nearly 
died.  Matilda's  never  told  me  a  thing  !" 

"Well,  she  didn't  know  much,  you  know," 
said  Mrs.  Mead ;  "  she  kept  herself  about  as 
close  as  she  kept  you.  We  were  given  to 
understand  pretty  plainly  that  we  weren't 
wanted  to  call." 

"Think  of  that  now,"  said  Susan,  "and 
me  up-stairs,  feeling  all  my  friends  had 
forgot  me  !" 

"  Everybody '11  come  now,"  said  Mrs. 
Mead;  "folks  will  be  glad  to  see  you  so 
well.  We  were  told  you  never  got  up  and 
hardly  ate  enough  to  keep  a  cat." 

"An  ordinary  cat,"  corrected  Emily; 
"Miss  Matilda's  always  told  what  a  lot 
your  cat  ate." 

"He  is  an  eater,"  said  Susan,  crinkling 
a  bit  about  the  eyes ;  "but  I  eat,  too,  now,  I 
can  tell  you." 

After  they  were  gone,  Jane  came  back 
into  the  sitting-room.  Her  aunt  was  stand' 

82 


CHANGE  IN  THE  FEEL  OF  THINGS 

ing  by  the  window.  "It's  so  beautiful  to 
be  down-stairs,"  she  said,  without  turning. 
"My  goodness,  and  to  think  that  only  a 
week  ago  I  laid  up-stairs  wanting  to  die." 

"You  can  thank  Aunt  Matilda  that  you 
didn't  die,"  said  Jane,  going  and  putting  her 
arm  around  her.  "If  she  had  kept  you 
thinking  of  all  the  illnesses  in  town,  you'd 
have  died  long  ago.  Sick  thoughts  are 
more  catching  than  diseases.  But  we  don't 
need  to  talk  of  that  now." 

"No,  indeed  we  don't,"  said  Susan, 
"for  there's  Mr.  Rath  coming." 

Jane  gave  a  little  start.  "I  wonder  what 
for,"  she  said. 

"What  for!"  Susan's  tone  was  full  of 
deep  meaning;  "why,  he's  fallen  dead  in 
love  with  you,  Jane,  that's  what  it  means, 
and  I  don't  wonder,  for  you're  the  nicest 
girl  I  ever  saw." 

"Oh,  Auntie!"  said  Jane,  quite  red. 
"The  very  idea!" 


83 


CHAPTER  VI 

LORENZO   RATH 

FT  wasn't  to  be  supposed  for  a  minute  that 
-*-  Lorenzo  Rath,  a  real  live  young  man 
and  an  artist,  shouldn't  take  first  place 
in  the  town  talk.  Jane's  remarkable  re- 
ligion might  attract  the  attention  of  a  few 
who  were  sufficiently  religious  themselves 
to  be  naturally  shocked  over  the  waffles 
and  depressed  over  the  invalid's  recovery, 
but  Lorenzo  was  of  interest  to  every  one. 

"If  he  ain't  took  already,  there's  a  fine 
chance  for  Emily,"  Mr.  Cattermole  said 
benevolently  to  his  daughter.  Being  a  man, 
he  naturally  supposed  that  Mrs.  Mead 
would  never  have  come  by  such  an  idea  if 
she  hadn't  had  a  bright  old  father  to  point 
it  out  to  her. 

"Emily  doesn't  want  to  marry,"  said 
84 


LORENZO  RATH 

Mrs.  Mead,  compressing  her  lips  and  ex- 
panding her  dignity  simultaneously;  "she 
wouldn't  marry  an  artist,  anyway." 

"Maybe  he  ain't  much  of  an  artist,"  said 
Mr.  Cattermole,  with  a  tendency  to  look 
on  the  bright  side.  "Why  don't  Emily 
want  to  marry  ?  I  thought  girls  always 
wanted  to  marry.  They  did  when  I  was 
young." 

"It's  different  nowadays,"  said  Mrs. 
Mead,  with  condescending  reserve.  'You 
don't  understand,  Father,  but  nothing  is 
like  it  used  to  be.  The  world  is  getting 
all  changed.  When  Emily  was  an  only 
child,  she  was  looked  upon  as  very  odd, 
but  most  women  have  an  only  child  nowa- 
days. Life  is  quite  different." 

"I'd  like  to  see  Emily  married,"  said  Mr. 
Cattermole,  thoughtfully. 

"Emily  has  had  plenty  of  chances," 
said  her  mother,  waving  the  brave,  tattered 
mother-lie  that  seems  to  cover  over  such 
cruel  wounds. 

"Has  she  really?"  said  Mr.  Cattermole, 
85 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

in  genuine  surprise.  "I  didn't  know  that. 
And  she  wouldn't  have  'em  !  Laws  sakes  ! 
Who,  for  instance?" 

"No  one  you  knew,"  said  his  daughter, 
telling  the  truth  then. 

"Sarah  knew  'em,  I  suppose?"  (Sarah 
was  Mrs.  Cowmull.) 

"No,  no  one  Sarah  knew." 

"Think  of  that  now  !  Why,  I  s'posed 
there  wasn't  nothing  Sarah  didn't  know." 

In  voicing  this  opinion  Mr.  Cattermole 
voiced  the  town  opinion,  too.  It  was 
popularly  supposed  that  Sarah  Cowmull 
always  knew  everything.  But  she  didn't 
know  the  status  of  Lorenzo  Rath's  heart, 
and  Lorenzo  Rath  himself  puzzled  her  not  a 
little. 

Lorenzo  puzzled  everybody,  mainly  be- 
cause he  was  so  open  and  simple  that  even 
a  child  must  have  suspected  him  of  keeping 
something  back.  Such  frankness  was  un- 
thinkable, such  innocence  incredible. 

"Why,  he's  gallivanting  all  over  with 
Madeleine,  and  yet  she's  gotten  another 

86 


LORENZO  RATH 

man's  picture  on  her  table  !"  said  Miss 
Debby  to  Katie  Croft. 

"And  he's  skipping  in  Mrs.  Ralston's 
gate  at  all  hours,"  said  Katie  Croft — •  "no 
kind  of  ceremony  to  him.  The  other  day 
he  see  mother  in  the  window,  and  he  waved 
his  hat  at  her  and  give  her  an  awful  turn. 
She  don't  see  well,  and  thought  he  threw  a 
stone  at  her.  She  ain't  used  to  city  ways ; 
she's  used  to  country  ways.  I  had  to  let 
her  smell  camphor  for  a  good  hour,  and 
while  she  was  smelling,  the  kitchen  fire 
went  out.  I  wish  he'd  keep  his  hat  on 
his  head  another  time.  My  life's  hard 
enough  without  having  a  artist  suddenly 
set  to,  to  cheer  up  mother." 

"What  do  you  think  of  Mrs.  Ralston's 
niece  ?  Think  she's  nice  ?" 

"Nice  !  With  Susan  Ralston  about  as 
lively  as  a  cricket!  I  don't  think  much  of 
such  new  ways.  I  don't  know  whatever 
Matilda  will  say.  She's  just  got  life  all 
systematized,  and  now  here's  Susan  up  and 
out  of  bed.  I'm  so  scared  the  girl'll  come 

87 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

over  and  go  at  mother,  I  don't  know  what 
to  do." 

"My,  suppose  Mrs.  Croft  was  to  be  up 
and  about !"  said  Miss  Debby,  opening 
her  eyes  widely.  ''  Whatever  would  you 
do?" 

"Do!  I  know  what  I'd  do."  Young 
Mrs.  Croft  looked  dark  and  mysterious. 
"I  know  just  exactly  what  I'll  do.  And 
I'm  all  ready  to  do  it,  and  if  I'm  inter- 
fered with,  I  will  do  it,  —  good  and  quick, 
too." 

"How  is  old  Mrs.  Croft  now?"  Miss 
Debby  asked. 

"Oh,  she's  grabbin'  as  ever.  I  never  see 
such  a  disposition.  She's  always  catching 
at  me  or  the  cat  or  something.  Seems  to 
consider  it  a  way  of  attracting  attention. 
Crazy  folks  has  such  crazy  ideas,  and  she's 
crazy,  —  crazy  as  a  loon." 

Katie  Croft  took  up  her  market  basket 
and  went  on  up  the  street.  Miss  Debby 
stayed  behind  to  wait  for  the  noon  maiL 
"Katie's  so  bitter,"  she  said  to  herself, 

88 


LORENZO  RATH 

shaking  her  head;    "she  ought  to  be  more 
grateful  for  being  supported." 

Miss  Debby  forgot  that  there  are  few 
things  so  irritating  in  this  world  as  being 
supported.  It  is  a  situation  which  has 
become  especially  unpopular  lately,  partic- 
ularly with  women  and  political  motives. 

But  no  old  worn-out  aphorism  held  for 
one  minute  in  the  breezy  bloom  of  the  House 
Where  Jane  Lived. 

"Oh,  I'm  so  happy,"  Susan  exclaimed 
many  times  daily,  "I'm  so  happy.  I  never 
felt  nothing  like  your  sunshining  in  all  my 
life  before,  you  Sunshine  Jane,  you !  I 
feel  like  my  own  cupboards,  all  unlocked 
and  aired  and  nice  and  used  again." 

Jane  stopped  caroling  as  she  kneaded 
bread  and  laughed  —  which  sounded  equally 
pleasant. 

"I'm  as  happy  as  you  are,  Auntie;  it's 
so  nice  to  be  in  heaven." 

"  I  used  to  think  maybe  I'd  die  suddenly 
and  find  myself  there  some  day,"  said 
Susan.  "I'm  glad  I  didn't." 

89 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"It's  better  to  live  suddenly  than  to  die 
suddenly,"  said  Jane,  merrily;  "when  peo- 
ple are  awfully  bothered  sometimes,  I've 
heard  their  friends  say :  '  But  if  you  died 
suddenly,  it  would  work  out  somehow,' 
and  I  wanted  to  say :  *  Why  not  live  suddenly 
instead  of  dying  suddenly,  and  then  every- 
thing's bound  to  come  out  splendidly." 

"Oh,  Jane,  what  a  grand  idea,  —  to 
live  suddenly  !  That's  what  I've  done, 
surely." 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  "that's  what  I  did,  too. 
Instead  of  fading  out  of  life,  we  just  bloomed 
into  life.  It's  just  as  easy,  and  a  million 
times  more  fun." 

"And  it's  all  so  awfully  agreeable,"  said 
Susan.  "My  things  look  so  nice,  all  set 
different,  and  it's  so  pleasant  having  folks 
coming  in,  and  I  like  it  all,  and  we  haven't 
to  fuss  with  the  garden." 

"I  attend  to  the  garden  !"  cried  a 
voice  outside,  and  a  mysterious  hand  shoved 
a  basket  of  peas  over  the  window-ledge. 

"I  know  who  that  is,"  said  Susan ;  "it's 
90 


LORENZO  RATH 

that  boy,  and  he's  smelt  cinnamon  rolls  and 
come  to  lunch.  How  do  you  do  ?" 

Lorenzo,  brown  and  merry,  was  getting  in 
at  the  window. 

"Why,  you've  really  been  weeding!" 
exclaimed  Susan. 

"Of  course  !  I've  tended  the  garden  ever 
since  you  gave  it  up." 

"  I  declare  !  Well,  I  never.  Jane,  we 
must  give  him  a  bite  of  something." 

"Yes,  that's  what  I  came  for,"  said 
Lorenzo,  cheerfully,  "cookies,  jelly-roll, — 
anything  simple  and  handy.  Madeleine 
and  I  were  out  walking,  discussing  our 
affairs,  and  when  I  stopped  for  the  garden, 
she  went  on  for  her  mail.  I'm  awfully 
hungry." 

"People  say  you're  engaged  to  her," 
said  Susan.  Jane  turned  to  get  the  tin  of 
cookies. 

"Yes,  naturally.  People  say  so  much. 
She  is  a  pretty  girl,  isn't  she  ?  —  but  then 
there's  Emily  Mead.  I  must  look  at 
myself  on  all  sides  and  consider  carefully. 

91 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Old  Mr.  Cattermole  took  me  to  drive 
yesterday  and  told  me  that  he  was  healthy 
and  his  dead  wife  was  healthy  and  that, 
except  for  what  killed  him,  Mr.  Mead  was 
healthy,  too ;  and  there  was  Emily,  per- 
fectly healthy  and  the  only  grandchild, 
and  why  didn't  I  come  over  often,  —  it 
wasn't  but  a  step.  " 

"  Well,  you  do  beat  all, "  said  Susan. 
Jane  offered  the  tin  of  cookies.  Lorenzo 
took  six.  They  were  all  laughing. 

Later,  when  he'd  gone  away,  Susan  said, 
almost  shyly  this  time  :  "Jane,  I  don't 
want  to  interfere,  but  he  is  in  love. " 

"With  Madeleine  ?  " 

"With  you."    , 

"Auntie,"  Jane  came  to  her  side,  "you 
mustn't  speak  in  that  way  about  me. 
I  can't  marry,  —  not  possibly.  I'm  a  Sun- 
shine Nurse,  and  I  shall  be  a  Sunshine  Nurse 
till  I  die.  I'll  make  homes  happy,  but  I 
shall  never  have  one  of  my  own." 

Susan  looked  frightened  and  timid .  "But 
why?" 

92 


LORENZO  RATH 

"For  many  reasons.     And  all  good  ones." 

There  was  that  in  the  young  girl's  tone 
that  ended  the  subject  for  the  time  being. 

But  Susan  thought  of  it  a  great  deal,  and 
alone  in  her  room  that  night,  Jane  thought, 
too.  She  had  made  herself  ready  for  bed, 
and  then  sat  down  by  the  window,  clasping 
her  hands  on  the  sill.  Lorenzo  Rath  was 
buoyantly  dear  and  jolly,  and  she  realized 
that  he  was  the  nicest  man  that  she  had 
ever  met.  It  had  all  been  fun,  great  fun, 
and  she  had  enjoyed  it  mightily.  But  with 
all  her  learning  Jane  was  not  so  very  much 
farther  along  the  Highway  to  Happiness 
than  some  others.  In  many  cases  she  was 
only  a  holder  of  keys  as  yet  —  the  distinct 
knowledge  to  be  gained  by  unlocking  secrets 
with  their  aid  was  as  yet  not  hers.  To  hold 
the  keys  and  look  at  the  doors  is  to  realize 
what  power  means,  —  but  to  unlock  is  to 
use  it.  Jane  was  still  a  novice ;  she  left  the 
doors  locked  and  was  content  to  hold  the 
keys,  and  no  more. 

The  next  night  Lorenzo  appeared  again. 
93 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"I'm  half -dead,"  he  said.  "I've  tramped 
twelve  miles,  sketching." 

"Dear,  dear,"  said  Susan,  "seems  like 
nobody  in  this  world  ever  wants  what's  close 
to." 

"Sometimes  it's  no  use  to  want  what's 
close  to,"  said  Lorenzo,  "or  else  what's 
close  to  is  like  Emily  Mead,  and  you  just 
ache  to  run." 

"Emily  Mead  is  a  very  nice  girl,"  said 
Jane,  in  a  tone  clearly  reproachful. 

Lorenzo  just  laughed.  But  then  Susan 
made  some  excuse  to  slip  away.  "I  wonder 
if  you'd  help  me  a  little,"  he  said  then, 
hesitating  a  bit. 

"  Is  it  something  that  I  can  do  ?  Of 
course  I'll  help  you  if  I  can." 

"It's  something  very  necessary." 

"Necessary  ?" 

"To  my  welfare  and  happiness." 

"What  is  it?" 

"I  think  —  I'm  —  falling  in  love." 

"Oh,  dear,"  Jane  was  carefully  tranquil. 

"I've  never  really  been  in  love  in  my 
94 


LORENZO  RATH 

life,  so  I  can't  be  sure.     But  I  think  it's 
that." 

Jane  said  nothing.  The  room  was  getting 
dark. 

"I've  never  seen  any  one  so  pretty  in  all 
my  life  as  Miss  Mar,"  said  the  young  artist, 
slowly.  "You  know  we're  old  friends." 

"Oh,  she's  lovely,"  said  Jane,  with  sudden 
fervor. 

"I  thought  that  we  might  make  up 
little  picnics  and  walks  and  things?"  hesi- 
tated the  young  man. 

"Of  course,"  said  Jane,  heartily.  "And 
you  can  come  here  all  you  like.  Auntie  likes 
you  both  so  much." 

Lorenzo  Rath  stood  by  the  door.  "Were 
you  ever  in  love  ?  "  he  asked  bluntly. 

"No,"  said  Jane.  "I've  never  had  the 
least  little  touch  of  it." 

"Haven't  you  ever  thought  about  it  ?" 

"No,  I've  never  had  time.  I've  never 
seen  any  man  that  I  could  or  would 
marry." 

"Never?" 

95 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Never." 

"That's  too  bad,"  said  Lorenzo  Rath 
slowly.  "Seems  to  me  you'd  make  such  a 
splendid  wife." 

She  laughed  a  little.  Then  she  had  to 
wink  quickly  to  drive  back  tears  which 
leapt  suddenly. 

"I  won't  say  any  more,"  said  Lorenzo. 
She  thought  that  he  did  not  care  to  speak  of 
Madeleine  to  her. 

Then  she  went.  And  later  she  found 
herself  sitting  in  her  own  room  again,  sit- 
ting by  the  same  window,  thinking. 
"Poor  Emily  Mead  and  her  illusory  mil- 
lionaire! I'm  about  as  silly  as  she  is," 
thought  Jane.  "And  yet  I  know  it's 
higher  and  more  beautiful  to  make  life 
lovely  for  others  than  to  make  it  lovely 
for  one's  self."  She  sighed  because  the  re- 
flection —  all  altruistic  as  it  was  —  was 
not  quite  the  truth,  and  she  was  true  enough 
herself  to  feel  jarred  by  the  slightest  cross- 
shadow  of  falsehood.  Truth  plays  as 
widely  and  freely  as  the  sunbeams  theni- 

96 


selves  and  goes  as  straight  to  the  heart 
of  each  and  all. 

Finally  she  opened  a  little  book  and  read 
aloud  a  few  pages  to  herself  in  a  low  tone. 
"I  know  I'm  on  the  right  path,"  she  said, 
when  she  had  closed  the  book;  "the  thing 
is  to  stick  resolutely  to  keeping  on  straight 
ahead.  And  I  must  be  absolutely  content 
with  all  that  comes.  You  have  to  be 
content  if  you're  going  to  grow  in  goodness, 
for  you  have  to  know  that  you've  been 
trying  and  been  successful."  She  sat  still 
a  while  longer  and  then  rose  with  a  deep, 
long  breath.  "Well,  to-day's  been  some- 
thing, and  to-morrow  I'll  be  something 
better,  I  know." 

The  truth  did  shine  then,  and  she  went 
to  bed  calmed,  but  was  hardly  stretched 
down  between  the  cool  sheets  when  Susan 
rapped  at  the  door. 

"Come  in." 

"Oh,  Jane,  I  can't  sleep.  I've  got  to 
thinking  of  when  Matilda  comes  back, 
and  I'm  scared  blue." 

97 


CHAPTER  VII 

A   NEW   OUTLOOK   ON   MATILDA 

r  I  THE  next  morning  Susan  looked  half- 
-*-  sheepish  and  half -anxious.  "I  just 
couldn't  help  it,  Jane.  I  laid  in  bed  so 
long,  thinking,  and  then  it  come  over  me 
what  life  was  going  to  be  when  she  was 
back  and  you  gone  and  —  well  —  I  just 
couldn't  help  coming.  I  felt  awful." 

Jane  was  busy  with  breakfast.  "I 
know,  Auntie,  I  know.  I  ought  to  have 
thought  of  Aunt  Matilda  sooner.  Half 
her  stay  is  over." 

"Oh,  my,  I  should  say  it  was,"  wailed 
Susan;  "that's  what  scares  me  so.  We're 
so  happy,  and  the  time  is  going  so  fast. 
It's  about  the  most  awful  thing  I  ever 
knew." 

Jane  began  beating  eggs  for  an  omelette. 

"We  never  were  one  bit  alike,"  Susan 
98 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

intoned  mournfully;  "we  were  always  so 
different,  and  then  when  husband  died, 
there  was  just  nothing  to  do  but  for  us  to 
live  together.  She's  my  only  sister,  and 
it's  right  that  I  should  humor  her,  but,  oh 
my,  what  a  scratch-about  life  she  has  led 
me.  I  was  getting  to  feel  more  like  a 
mouse  than  a  woman  —  soon  as  I  got  a 
bite,  I'd  begin  to  tremble  and  to  listen  and 
then  how  I  did  run  !" 

"But  it  will  be  all  so  different  when  she 
comes  back,"  Jane  said  cheerily.  "She'll 
be  very  different,  and  so  will  you.  It'll 
be  just  like  I  told  you  last  night." 

"I  know,  —  I  know.  But  somehow  I 
can't  see  it  as  you  do.  I'm  all  upset. 
And  I'm  so  happy  without  her.  We're 
so  happy.  The  house  looks  beautiful. 
You've  just  made  everything  over.  I  de- 
clare, Jane,  I  never  saw  anything  like  you. 
All  my  old  things  have  turned  new,  and  so 
pretty.  I  feel  like  a  bride.  That  is,  I 
feel  like  a  bride  when  I  ain't  thinking  of 
Matilda." 

99 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"It  looks  very  nice,  surely,"  said  Jane, 
smiling.  "Your  things  were  so  pretty, 
anyhow.  But  what  I  was  gladdest  about 
was  to  really  get  it  all  opened  up  and  fresh. 
I  didn't  want  any  one  to  come  while  it 
was  so  gloomy.  The  whole  town  may 
call  now." 

"They  do,  too,"  said  Susan,  diverted 
for  the  minute;  "they  certainly  do.  Oh, 
it  is  so  nice,  I  so  adore  to  hear  all  about 
things  again.  Matilda  just  shut  every- 
body out.  She  didn't  like  company." 

"She  was  pretty  busy,  you  know." 

"She  hadn't  any  more  to  do  than  you 
have.  She  hadn't  so  much  to  do  as  you 
have,  because  she  didn't  do  a  thing  you  do." 

"But  you  were  ill.  She  was  always  up 
and  down  stairs  — " 

"No,  she  wasn't,  Jane.     No,  she  wasn't." 

"Well,  she  had  your  meals  to  carry  up- 
stairs." 

"I  don't  call  it  meals  to  run  with  a  tea- 
cup. Meals  !  Such  meals  !  It's  a  wonder 
I  didn't  die.  She'd  turn  anything  upside 
100 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

down  on  a  plate  and  something  else  up- 
side down  on  that,  and  call  it  a  meal  for 
me.  I  was  about  sick,  just  from  how  she 
fed  me.  If  I  said  something  was  cooked 
too  dry,  she  emptied  the  tea-kettle  into  it 
next  time ;  and  if  I  said  anything  was  too 
wet,  she  put  on  fresh  coal  and  left  it  in 
the  oven  over  night.  If  I  said  the  room 
was  too  light,  she  shut  it  up  as  dark  as  a 
pickpocket ;  and  if  I  said  it  was  too  dark, 
she  turned  the  sun  into  my  eyes.  She's 
my  only  sister  and  I  must  humor  her,  but 
I've  had  a  very  hard  time,  Jane,*  and  I 
don't  blame  myself  for  waking  up  with  my 
teeth  all  of  a  chatter  over  the  thought  of 
living  with  her  again." 

Jane  had  their  breakfast  ready  now  on 
the  table  by  the  window.  "Come  and  sit 
down,"  she  said;  "we'll  talk  while  we  eat. 
It's  like  I  told  you  last  night,  —  there  must 
be  a  hitch  somewhere.  Of  course,  God  has 
a  good  reason  for  you  and  Aunt  Matilda 
living  together.  He  doesn't  allow  acci- 
dents in  His  world." 

101 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Perhaps  He  wasn't  thinking.  I  can't 
believe  that  anybody  would  deliberately 
put  anybody  in  the  house  with  Matilda 
—  not  if  they  knew  Matilda.  I  didn't 
know  what  she'd  grown  into  myself  when 
she  first  came  to  take  care  of  me,  because 
I  was  a  little  poorly.  It  was  to  save  spend- 
ing on  a  nurse,  you  know.  They're  such 
trying,  prying  things,  nurses  are." 

"I'm  a  nurse,  you  know." 

"My  goodness,  I  didn't  mean  your  kind; 
I  meant  the  regular  kind." 

Jane  was  laughing.  "But  I  mustn't 
laugh,"  she  said,  after  a  minute;  "we  must 
go  to  work.  Let's  see  if  we  can  find  out 
how  it  all  began.  Didn't  you  and  Aunt 
Matilda  get  on  nicely  at  first?" 

Susan  considered.  "Well,  I  don't  be- 
lieve we  did.  She  was  always  so  very 
sparing.  Husband  was  sparing,  and  of 
course  I'd  had  a  good  many  years  of  it, 
but  when  your  husband's  gone  and  you've 
got  the  property  yourself  and  have  left  it  to 
an  only  sister  who  takes  care  of  you,  you 

102 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

don't  like  her  being  even  more  sparing, — put- 
ting you  on  skim-milk  right  from  the  first  and 
chopping  the  potato  peelings  in  the  hash." 

"But  there  must  have  been  some  good 
in  the  situation,  or  it  wouldn't  have  been. 
When  there's  a  wrong  situation,  the  cure 
lies  in  hunting  out  the  good,  not  in  talking 
over  the  bad." 

"You  won't  find  any  good  in  Matilda 
and  me  living  together,  —  not  if  you  hunt 
till  Doomsday."  Susan  took  a  big  sip  of 
coffee  and  then  shook  her  head  hard. 

"There's  good  in  everything." 

"I  don't  know  what  it  was  here,  then. 
I  was  all  ready  to  die,  and  the  doctor  said 
I  couldn't  live,  and  when  I  found  out  how 
Matilda  was  counting  on  it,  I  just  made  up 
my  mind  to  live  just  to  spite  her.  But  it's 
been  awful  hard  work." 

Jane  turned  and  seized  her  hand.  "Well, 
maybe  that's  the  reason  for  the  situation, 
then.  You  see  if  she'd  been  different,  you'd 
have  died,  but  being  a  person  who  made 
you  mad,  you  stayed  alive." 
103 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Susan  laughed  a  little.  "I've  been  mad 
enough,  I  know,"  she  went  on;  "it's  aw- 
ful to  be  up-stairs  the  way  I've  been  and 
have  to  prowl  down-stairs  and  run  off  with 
your  food  like  a  dog  in  an  alley.  I  was 
always  watching  till  I  saw  Matilda  over 
that  second  fence  and  then  racing  for  some- 
thing to  eat.  I've  been  very  hungry  often 
and  often,  Jane,  very  hungry  indeed,  - 
and  in  my  own  house,  too." 

The  tears  came  into  the  girl's  eyes. 
"Poor  Auntie!"  she  said.  "Well,  it's  all 
over  now  and  won't  ever  come  back.  You 
must  believe  me  when  I  say  so.  Old  con- 
ditions never  return.  The  wheel  can't 
turn  backward.  That  mustn't  be." 

"But  how'll  it  help  it  when  Matilda's 
visit  gets  over  ?" 

Jane  rested  her  chin  on  her  hands  and 
looked  out  of  the  window.  "I'll  have  to 
get  you  on  to  a  plane  where  you  can't 
live  as  you  did  ever  again,"  she  said. 

"On  a  plane  !  — "  Susan  stared. 

"A  plane  is  a  kind  of  grade  in  life.     We 
104 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

keep  going  up  them  like  stairs,  and  the 
quieter  and  happier  people  live,  the  higher 
is  the  plane  on  which  they  are.  It's  very 
simple,  when  you  come  to  understand  it. 
It's  sort  of  like  a  marble  staircase  built 
out  of  a  marsh  and  on  up  a  mountain. 
You  can  stand  down  in  the  mud,  or  step 
higher  in  the  reeds,  or  step  higher  in  the 
water  (generally  it's  hot  water,"  Jane 
interrupted  herself  to  say  with  a  little 
smile).  "Or  out  on  the  dry  earth,  or 
higher  where  it's  flowers,  or  higher  or  higher. 
But  every  time  you  get  up  a  step  you  leave 
all  the  mess  of  all  the  lower  steps  behind 
you  forever.  Do  you  understand?" 

"No,  I  don't." 

"Why,  don't  you  see  that  if  you  lift 
yourself  higher  than  your  surroundings,  of 
course  you'll  have  other  conditions  around 
you  'and  be  really  living  another  life  ?  We 
can't  possibly  be  bound  by  conditions  lower 
than  our  souls.  It's  a  law.  I'll  help  you 
to  understand  it,  and  then  it  will  help  you 
to  not  be  at  all  troubled  over  Aunt  Matilda. 
105 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

You'll  be  above  her.  Don't  you  see  ?  One 
can  always  get  out  of  a  disagreeable  life  by 
lifting  one's  self  above  it." 
1  "But  I  did  stay  up-stairs,"  said  Susan, 
with  beautiful  literalness.  "I  think  it's 
awful  to  have  to  keep  a  plane  above  any 
one,  when  the  whole  house  is  yours." 

"I  didn't  mean  that,"  said  Jane.  "I 
meant  that  mentally  you  must  get  above 
her.  It  isn't  in  words  or  in  thoughts,  — 
you  must  be  above  her.  You  must  get 
free.  I  must  help  you.  You  can  do  it. 
Anybody  can  do  it.  And  as  soon  as  you 
are  free  in  your  spirit,  your  life  will  change. 
Our  daily  life  follows  our  thoughts.  Our 
thoughts  make  a  pattern,  and  life  weaves 
it.  The  world  of  stars  that  we  can't 
hardly  grasp  at  all  is  all  God's  thought. 
The  life  in  this  house  was  your  thought 
and  Aunt  Matilda's." 

"It  wasn't  mine,"  said  Susan  quickly; 
"it  was  hers." 

"Well,     it's    mine     now,"     said     Jane. 
"That's  the  true  business  of  the  Sunshine 
106 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

Nurses.  They  must  get  a  new  thought  into 
a  house  and  get  it  to  growing  well.  Then 
they'll  leave  the  true  sunshine  there  forever 
after." 

Susan's  eyes  were  very  curious  —  very 
bright.  "I  declare  I  don't  see  how  you'll 
do  it  here,"  she  said.  "I  can't  look  at 
Matilda  any  new  way,  as  I  know  of.  What- 
ever she  does,  she  does  just  exactly  as  I 
don't  like  it." 

"I  suppose  that  you  try  her,  too." 

"Well,  I  didn't  die ;  of  course  she  minded 
that.  But  I  couldn't  die.  You  can't  die 
just  to  order." 

"No,  of  course  not ;  I  didn't  mean  that." 
Jane  was  quite  serious.  "I  don't  blame 
you  at  all  for  not  doing  that." 

Susan  had  finished  and  rose  from  the 
table.  "Let's  leave  the  dishes  and  go 
out  in  the  yard,"  she  said.  "I'm  awfully 
anxious  to  keep  on  at  this  till  we  find  a  way 
out,  if  you  think  that  you  can ;  I  go  about 
wild  when  I  think  of  her.  I'm  ready  for 
anything  except  staying  in  bed  any  more." 
107 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

> 

"Oh,  that's  all  over,"  said  Jane. 
"  You're  off  the  bed-plane  now,  and  don't 
you  see  how  much  higher  you've  got  al- 
ready ?  The  next  step  is  to  fix  yourself 
so  securely  on  this  happy  one  that  you 
know  that  it's  yours  and  you  can't  leave 
it.  You  see,  you  feel  able  to  go  back  down 
again,  and  as  long  as  you  feel  that  way, 
it's  possible.  One  has  to  bar  out  the  wrong 
kind  of  life  forever,  and  then  of  course  it's 
over." 

"But  she  is  coming  back,"  said  Susan, 
"and  I  can't  live  any  more  on  gobbles  of 
milk  and  cold  bits  swallowed  while  I'm 
getting  up-stairs  three  steps  to  the  jump." 

Jane  looked  at  her.  "I  expect  that 
exercise  was  awfully  good  for  you,  Auntie," 
she  said  seriously.  '' You've  probably  got- 
ten a  lot  of  health  and  interest  out  of  it. 
Don't  forget  that." 

"Well,  maybe;  but  I  don't  want  any 
more."  Susan's  tone  was  terribly  earnest. 

"It's  all  over  then,"  said  Jane,  slowly 
and  with  emphasis;  "if  you  truly  and 
108 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

honestly  don't  want  any  more,  then  it 
must  be  all  over.  The  thing  to  do  now  is 
to  build  a  firm  connection  between  our- 
selves and  it's  being  all  over." 

"I  don't  quite  understand  what  you 
mean,"  said  Susan,  "but  something's  got 
to  be  done,  of  course,  because  otherwise 
she'll  come  home,  and  oh,  my,  her  face 
when  she  sees  me  up  and  around  !" 

Jane  knit  her  brows.  ,  "'  You  see,  Auntie," 
she  said  slowly,  "there's  only  one  thing  to 
do.  We've  got  to  change  ourselves  com- 
pletely ;  we've  to  get  where  we  want  her 
to  come  home  and  where  we  look  forward 
to  it—" 

'  Susan  stopped  short  and  lifted  up  both 
hands.  "  Gracious,  we  can't  ever  do  that ! 
It  isn't  in  humanity." 

"Yes,  we  can  do  it,"  said  Jane  firmly; 
"people  can  always  do  anything  that  they 
can  think  out,  and  if  we  can  think  this  out 
straight,  we  can  do  it." 

"How?" 

"It  isn't  easy  to  see  in    just  the  first 
109 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

minute,  but  I  understand  the  principle  of 
it  and  I  know  that  we  can  work  it,  for 
I've  seen  it  done.  You  do  it  by  getting 
an  entirely  new  atmosphere  into  the  house." 

"  But  you've  done  that  already,"  in- 
terrupted Susan.  "It  isn't  musty  any- 
where any  more,  and  there's  such  a  kind 
of  a  happy  smell  instead." 

"I  don't  mean  that  kind  of  an  atmos- 
phere. I  mean  a  change  of  feeling  in  our- 
selves. We've  got  to  somehow  make  our- 
selves all  over  ;  we  must  really  and  truly 
be  different." 

"  But  I  am  made  over,  and  you  were  all 
right,  anyhow." 

"  No,  I'm  not  all  right,"  said  Jane  firmly. 
"  I'm  very  wrong.  I'm  letting  silly 
thoughts  with  which  I've  no  business  tor- 
ment me  dreadfully,  and  I'm  not  driving 
them  out  with  any  kind  of  resolution. 
Then  we're  both  doing  wrong  about  Aunt 
Matilda.  We're  making  a  narrow  little 
black  box  of  our  opinion  and  crowding  her 
into  it  all  the  time.  There's  nothing  so 
110 


A   NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

dreadful  as  the  way  families  just  chain 
one  another  to  their  faults.  Outsiders 
see  all  the  nice  things,  and  we  have  lots 
of  courage  to  always  live  up  to  their  opin- 
ions, but  families  spend  most  of  their 
time  just  nailing  those  they  love  best  into 
pretty  little  limits.  You  and  I  are  so 
happy  together,  and  we're  changing  our- 
selves and  one  another  every  day,  but  we 
never  think  that  Aunt  Matilda's  also  hav- 
ing experience  and  changing  herself,  too. 
We  kind  of  forbid  her  to  grow  better." 

"You  won't  find  anything  that  will 
change  Matilda  very  quick,  Jane.  She's 
a  dreadful  person  to  stick  to  habits;  she's 
drunk  out  of  the  blue  cup  and  give  me  the 
green  one  for  these  whole  five  years." 

"The  change  in  the  atmosphere  of  the 
house,"  said  Jane  slowly,  "must  be  com- 
plete. We  must  never  say  one  more  word 
about  her  that  isn't  nice,  and  we  mustn't 
even  think  unkind  thoughts.  We  must 
talk  about  her  lots  and  look  forward  to 
her  coming  back  — " 

111 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Oh,  heavens,  I  can't,"  gasped  Susan. 

"We'll  begin  to-day  on  her  room — " 

"Then  you'll  make  her  madder  than  a 
hatter,  sure;  she  can't  bear  to  have  her 
room  touched." 

"I'm  going  to  make  it  the  prettiest  room 
in  the  house,"  said  Jane  resolutely.  "I'm 
going  to  brush  and  clean  and  mend  and  fix 
all  those  clothes  she's  left  hanging  up,  and 
I'm  going  to  love  her  dearly  from  now  on." 

Susan  sat  still,  her  lips  moving  slightly, 
but  whether  with  repressed  feeling  or 
trembling  sentiment  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  say.  "She  looked  awful  cute 
when  she  was  little  and  wore  pantalettes," 
she  said  finally. 

"Bravo  !"  cried  Jane,  running  to  her 
and  kissing  her.  "There's  a  fine  victory 
for  you,  and  now,"  —  her  face  brightening 
suddenly,  —  "I've  got  an  idea  of  what  we 
can  do  to  lift  us  right  straight  up  into  a 
new  circle  of  life.  What  do  you  say  to 
our  making  the  little  back  parlor  over 
into  a  bedroom,  and  — " 
112 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

"—taking  Mr.  Rath  to  board?"  cried 
Susan  joyfully.  "Oh,  I  am  sure  that  he 
wanted  to  come  all  along." 

Jane  laughed  outright.  "No,  indeed, 
the  very  idea  !  No,  what  I  thought  of 
was  inviting  that  poor  old  Mrs.  Croft  here 
for  a  week  and  giving  her  and  her  daughter- 
in-law  a  rest  from  one  another." 

Susan  gave  a  sharp  little  yell.  "Why, 
Jane  Grey,  I  never  heard  the  beat ! 
Why,  she  can't  even  feed  herself  ! " 

"  It  would  be  a  way  to  change  the  atmos- 
phere of  the  house;  it's  just  the  kind  of 
thing  that  would  change  us  all — " 

"I  should  think  it  would  change  us  all," 
interrupted  Susan;  "why,  she  threw  a 
cup  of  tea  at  Katie's  back  last  week.  Katie 
said  she  couldn't  possibly  imagine  what 
had  come  over  her,  —  she  was  leaning  out 
to  hook  the  blinds." 

"It  would  be  a  Bible-lovely  thing  to  do," 
Jane  went  on  slowly.  :'You  or  I  could 
feed  her,  and  I'd  take  care  of  her.  I'm 
a  nurse,  you  know  !" 

113 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Jane!  Well,  you  beat  all!  Well,  I 
never  did  !  Old  Mrs.  Croft.  Why,  they 
say  you  might  as  well  be  gentle  with  a 
hornet." 

"  Maybe  she  has  her  reasons ;  maybe  it's, 
—  Set  a  hornet  to  tend  a  hornet,  for  all  we 
know.  Anyway,  it's  come  to  me  as  some 
good  to  do,  and  when  I  think  of  any  good 
that  I  can  do,  I  have  to  do  it,  —  else  it's 
a  sin.  That's  my  religion." 

"That  religion  of  yours'll  get  you  into 
a  lot  of  hot  water  along  through  life." 
Susan's  tone  was  very  grave.  "And  you've 
never  seen  old  Mrs.  Croft,  or  you'd  never 
speak  of  her  and  religion  in  the  same 
breath.  They've  got  a  cat  she  caresses, 
and  some  days  she  caresses  it  for  all  she's 
worth.  I've  heard  the  cat  being  caressed 
when  it  was  quiet,  myself,  many's  the 
time.  You  can't  use  that  religion  of  yours 
on  old  Mrs.  Croft ;  she  isn't  a  subject  for 
religion.  She's  one  of  that  kind  that  the 
man  in  the  Bible  thanked  God  he  wasn't 
one  of  them." 

114 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

"My  religion  is  what  brought  me  here 
to  you,"  said  Jane  gently.  "You  aren't 
really  sorry  that  I  learned  it,  are  you, 
Auntie?"  | 

Susan's  eyes  moistened  quickly.  She 
gasped,  then  swallowed,  then  made  up  her 
mind.  "Well,  Sunshine  Jane,"  she  said 
resignedly,  "when  shall  we  get  her  ?" 

"We'll  put  her  room  in  order  to-morrow 
morning,  and  I'll  go  and  ask  her  in  the 
afternoon." 

"Oh,  dear  !"  said  Susan,  with  a  world  of 
meaning  in  the  two  syllables.  "I  hope 
she'll  enjoy  the  change." 

Jane  laughed.  "Goodness,  Auntie,  I 
never  saw  any  one  pick  up  new  ideas  as 
quick  as  you  do.  I  was  months  learning 
how  to  make  myself  over,  and  you  do  it  in 
just  a  few  hours.  You  must  have  laid  a 
big  foundation  of  self-control  up  there  in 
bed." 

Susan  sighed,  uncheered.  "It  kept  me 
pretty  sharp,  I  tell  you,"  she  said;  "when 
you're  always  hungry  and  have  to  get 
115 


your  food  on  the  sly  and  be  positively  sure 
of  never  being  found  out,  it  does  keep  you 
in  trim  being  spry  pretty  steady." 

"May  we  come  in?"  asked  voices  at 
the  gate.  It  was  Lorenzo  Rath  and  Made- 
leine. "We  wanted  to  see  how  you  were 
getting  on  to-day,"  the  latter  called. 

"We've  been  changing  the  furniture  and 
the  atmosphere,"  said  Susan,  trying  bravely 
to  smile.  "Jane  is  turning  everything 
around  and  bringing  the  bright  new  side 
out." 

"If  you'll  come  and  help  me  wash  the 
breakfast  dishes  and  then  make  biscuits," 
Jane  said  to  Madeleine,  "I'll  ask  you  both 
to  lunch." 

"I  want  to  learn  how  to  do  everything, 
of  course,"  said  Madeleine. 

"And  why  shouldn't  we  go  down  to  the 
garden?"  suggested  Lorenzo  to  Susan. 
"You'll  point  out  the  things  you  want 
to-day,  and  I'll  pull  'em  up." 

"But  there  are  fences  to  climb,"  said 
Jane. 

116 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

"Fiddle  for  fences,"  said  her  aunt; 
"  he'll  go  ahead,  and  I'll  skim  over  'em  like 
a  squirrel.  I  never  made  anything  of 
fences." 

So  they  divided  the  labor. 

"The  house  looks  so  pretty,"  said  Made- 
leine, as  she  and  Jane  went  through  to  the 
kitchen.  "How  do  you  ever  manage  it, 
—  with  just  the  same  things,  too?  " 

Jane  glanced  about.  "Why,  there's  a 
right  place  for  everything,  and  if  you  just 
stand  back  a  bit  and  let  the  things  have 
time  to  think,  they'll  tell  you  where  to  put 
them.  There  was  an  old  blue  vase  in  the 
dining-room  that  was  pretty  weak-minded, 
but  I  was  patient  and  carried  it  all  over 
the  place  till  finally  it  was  suited  on  top  of 
the  what-not  in  the  corner  of  the  hall. 
The  trouble  with  most  things  is  that  we 
hurry  them  too  much  at  first,  and  then  we 
don't  help  them  out  of  their  false  position 
later." 

"Oh,  Jane,  you  are  so  delightfully  quaint. 
You  must  tell  Mr.  Rath  that.  It's  the 
117 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

kind  of  speech  that  will  just  charm  the 
soul  right  out  of  an  artist." 

Jane  was  deep  in  the  flour-bin.  "But 
I  don't  want  to  charm  his  soul.  I'll  leave 
that  to  you." 

"To  me  !  Why,  he  doesn't  care  a  rap 
about  me." 

"Well,  then,  to  Emily  Mead." 

"Emily  Mead  !  Oh,  my  dear,  you  have 
put  a  lot  of  new  ideas  into  her  head  !  She 
says  that  you  told  her  that  any  one  could 
get  anything  that  he  or  she  wanted." 

"And  so  they  can." 

"Suppose  she  wants  Mr.  Rath  ?" 

"If  she  wants  him  in  the  right  way, 
she'll  have  him." 

"I  don't  like  that  way  of  speaking  of 
men,"  said  Madeleine,  dipping  her  white 
fingers  into  the  flour  and  beginning  to  chip 
the  butter  through  it.  "Don't  you  think 
it's  horrid  how  girls  speak  of  men  nowa- 
days ?  I  do." 

"Of  course  I  do,"  said  Jane.  "But  one 
drops  into  the  habit  just  because  every- 
118 


A   NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

body  does  it.  I'll  never  be  married  my- 
self, and  it's  partly  because  I  think  it's  all 
being  so  dragged  down.  Instead  of  two 
people's  knowing  one  another  and  liking 
one  another  better  till  finally  a  big,  beau- 
tiful, holy  secret  sort  of  dawns  on  them 
and  makes  the  world  all  over  new,  girls 
just  go  on  and  act  as  if  men  were  wild 
animals  to  be  hunted  and  caught  and 
talked  about,  or  married  and  made  fun 
of.  I  don't  think  all  these  new  ideas 
and  new  ways  for  women  have  made 
women  a  bit  more  womanly.  When  I  had 
to  earn  my  living,  I  picked  out  work  that 
a  man  couldn't  do,  and  that  I  wouldn't 
be  hurting  any  man  by  doing.  I'm  sorry 
for  men  nowadays.  And  I  think  women 
lose  a  lot  the  way  some  of  them  go  on." 

"After  all,  there  can't  be  anything  nicer 
than  to  be  a  woman,  can  there?"  said 
Madeleine,  stirring  as  the  other  poured  in 
ingredients.  "I've  always  been  glad  that 
I  was  a  woman.  I  think  that  a  woman's 
life  is  so  sweet,  and  it's  beautiful  to  be  pro- 
119 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

tected  and  cared  for."  The  pink  flew  over 
her  cheeks  at  the  words. 

Jane's  lashes  swept  downward  for  a 
minute,  then  rose  resolutely.  "Or  to  pro- 
tect and  care  for  others.  It  always  seems 
to  me  as  if  a  woman  was  the  sort  of  blessed 
way  through  which  a  man's  love  and 
strength  and  care  go  to  his  children.  Men 
are  so  helpless  with  children,  but  they  do 
such  a  lot  for  wives,  and  then  the  mothers 
pass  it  on  to  the  little  ones." 

"Life's  lovely  when  you  think  of  it 
rightly,  isn't  it  ? "  Madeleine  said  thought- 
fully. "I'm  so  pleased  over  having  come 
here.  You  see  Father  and  Mother  wanted 
me  to  spend  a  few  weeks  quietly  where  I 
could  rest  and  pick  myself  up  a  little,  and 
so  they  sent  me  here.  I  didn't  care  much 
about  coming,  but  I'm  glad  now.  You're 
doing  me  lots  of  good,  Jane ;  you  seem  to 
help  me  to  unlock  the  doors  to  everything 
that's  just  best  in  me." 

"It  isn't  that  I  do  it,"  said  Jane;  "it's 
that  it's  been  done  to  me,  and  after  it  got 
120 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

through  me,  it's  bound  to  shine  on.  It's 
like  light;  every  window  you  clean  lets  it 
through  into  another  place,  where  maybe 
there's  something  else  to  clean  and  let  it 
through  again." 

"I  suppose  we  just  live  to  keep  clean  and 
let  light  through,"  laughed  Madeleine, 
cutting  out  the  biscuits. 

"That's  all." 

"I  think  that  you'd  make  a  good 
preacher,  Jane;  you've  such  nice,  plain, 
homely,  understandable  ways  of  putting 
things." 

Jane  laughed  and  popped  the  pan  into 
the  oven.  "  Come  and  help  lay  the  table," 
she  said.  "Oh,  you  never  saw  anything 
as  sweet  as  Aunt  Susan's  joy  in  her  own 
things.  She's  like  a  little  child  at  Christ- 
mas. It's  a  kind  of  coming  back  to  life 
for  her." 

"They  say  that  her  sister  was  awfully 
mean  to  her." 

"But  she  wasn't  at  all.  She  thought 
that  she  was  sicker  than  she  was,  and  she 
121 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

kept  her  in  bed,  and  the  joke  of  it  was  that 
Aunt  Susan  didn't  like  to  hurt  her  feelings 
by  letting  her  see  what  mistaken  ideas  she 
had,  so  she  hopped  up  every  time  the  coast 
was  clear  and  kept  lively  and  interested 
trying  to  be  about  and  in  bed  at  once." 

"How  perfectly  delightful !  I  never 
heard  anything  so  funny.  And  then  you 
came  and  discovered  the  truth." 

"Well,  I  didn't  want  her  to  stay  in  bed. 
I'd  never  encourage  any  one  in  a  false 
belief,  but  she  hadn't  the  belief,  —  she  had 
only  the  false  appearance.  She  didn't 
enjoy  being  an  invalid  one  bit." 

"I  think  it's  too  droll,"  said  Madeleine. 
"Didn't  you  laugh  when  it  dawned  on  you 
first?" 

"It  dawned  on  me  rather  sadly.  But  we 
laugh  together  now." 

"What  will  she  do  when  her  sister  comes 
back?" 

"Oh,  that  will  all  come  out  nicely.     I 
don't  know  just  how,  but  I  know  that  it 
will  come  out  all  right." 
122 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

"Do  you  always  have  faith  in  things 
coming  out  rightly  ?" 

"Always.  I  wouldn't  dare  not  to.  I'm 
one  of  those  people  who  kind  of  feel  the 
future  as  it  draws  near,  and  so  I  wouldn't 
allow  myself  to  feel  any  mean  future  draw- 
ing near,  on  principle.  I  always  feel  that 
nice  things  are  marching  straight  towards 
me  as  fast  as  ever  the  band  of  music  plays." 

"  Do  you  believe  that  it  really  makes  any 
difference  ?" 

"Of  course  it  makes  a  difference.  It 
makes  all  the  difference  in  the  world,  be- 
cause hope's  a  rope  by  which  any  good 
thing  can  haul .  you  right  up  to  it,  hand 
over  hand." 

"You  give  me  a  lot  to  think  about," 
said  Madeleine. 

Jane  ran  out  and  picked  some  ivy  leaves 
to  place  under  the  vase  of  flowers  in  the 
middle  of  the  table.  It  made  a  little  green 
mat.  "There;  we're  all  ready  when  they 
come,  now,"  she  said. 

Presently  they  did  come. 
123 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Oh,  what  will  Mrs.  Cowmull  say  to 
this  !"  said  Lorenzo,  as  he  pulled  out  Mrs. 
Ralston's  chair.  "She's  busy  marking  pas- 
sages in  The  Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture 
to  read  aloud  to  me  while  I  eat,  and  now 
I  shan't  show  up  at  all." 

"Have  you  seen  her  niece  lately?" 
asked  Madeleine. 

"Yes,  I  saw  her  this  morning.  She 
wants  to  pose  for  me,  only  she  stipulated 
that  she  should  wear  clothes.  I  told  her 
that  my  models  all  wore  thick  wool  and 
only  showed  a  little  of  their  faces.  She 
didn't  seem  to  like  that." 

"But  what  did  you  mean?  Surely  you 
don't  always  have  them  wear  thick 
woolen  ?" 

"I  just  do.  If  they  haven't  thick  wool 
on,  I  won't  paint  them  at  all." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Why,  I  paint  sheep." 

The  mild  little  joke  met  with  great  favor. 

"I  think  you're  a  very  clever  young 
man,"  Susan  said  with  great  sincerity.  "  To 
124 


A  NEW  OUTLOOK  ON  MATILDA 

think  of  me  having  a  good  time  laughing 
with  a  sheep  painter,"  she  added.  "Who 
holds  them  for  you  to  paint,  and  do  you 
set  them  afterwards  ?" 

"I  paint  them  right  in  the  fields,"  said 
Lorenzo. 

"I  should  think  they'd  butt  you  from 
behind." 

"I  paint  over  a  fence." 

"Well,  that's  safe,"  said  Jane's  aunt. 
"If  you're  careful  not  to  be  on  the  side 
where  there's  a  bull." 

After  supper  Madeleine  helped  Jane  wash 
the  dishes. 

"What  fun  you  make  out  of  everything," 
she  said. 

"It's  the  only  way,"  Jane  answered. 
"My  mission  is  to  make  two  sunbeams 
shine  where  only  one  slanted." 

"I'm  glad  I'm  one  of  the  heathen  to 
whom  you  were  sent,"  said  Madeleine 
affectionately. 

Jane  put  her  arm  around  her.  "So  am 
I,  dear,  very  glad." 

125 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Madeleine  laid  her  face  against  the  other 
girl's.  "Some  day  I  want  to  tell  you  a 
secret,"  she  said;  "a  secret  that  Lorenzo 
told  me  yesterday.*' 

Jane  felt  her  heart  sort  of  skip  a  beat. 
"Do  tell  me,"  she  said  in  a  whisper. 

"I  can't  now,"  said  Madeleine.  "I 
want  to  be  all  alone  with  you.  It's  too  — 
too  big  a  secret  to  bear  to  be  broken  in 
upon." 

"  Can  you  come  to-morrow  afternoon  ? 
Auntie's  going  to  Mrs.  Mead's  to  the  Sew- 
ing Society,  and  I'll  be  here  alone." 

"That  will  be  nice,"  said  Madeleine; 
"yes,  I'll  come." 


126 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SOUL-UPLIFTING 

TT  was  the  next  morning  about  eleven 

-*-   o'clock. 

:<You  see,"  said  Jane,  sitting  in  the 
Crofts'  sitting-room  opposite  Katie  Croft 
who,  whatever  else  she  might  or  might  not 
be,  was  certainly  not  pleasant  of  expression, 
"you  see,  my  aunt  has  been  an  invalid  so 
much  that  she  appreciates  what  a  change 
means  to  both  the  sick  one  and  the  one 
who  cares  for  her,  and  so  we  thought  that 
it  would  be  so  nice  if  you'd  let  me  wheel 
your  mother  — " 

"  She  ain't  my  mother  —  she's  my 
mother-in-law,"  broke  in  Mrs.  Katie  Croft, 
instantly  indignant  over  so  false  an  im- 
putation. "Good  lands,  the  very  idea! 
My  mother  !  And  never  one  single  stroke 
of  paralysis  nor  nothing  in  my  family, 
127 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

and  all  reading  the  Bible  without  glasses 
right  up  till  they  died." 

:'You  see,  it  would  give  you  a  little  rest, 
too,"  Jane  continued,  "and  it  would  do 
Aunt  Susan  good  to  feel  that  she  was 
helping  a  weaker — " 

"She  ain't  weak,"  broke  in  Katie  Croft, 
again;  "my  lands,  she's  strong  as  a 
lady-ox.  Anything  she  makes  up  her  mind 
to  keep  she  lays  hold  of  with  a  grip  as 
makes  you  fairly  sick  all  up  and  down  your 
back.  You  don't  know  perhaps,  Miss 
Grey,  as  my  husband  died  in  our  youth, 
and  I  come  to  live  with  his  mother  as  a 
sacred  duty,  and  I  tell  you  frankly  that 
I  wish  I'd  never  been  born  or  that  he'd 
never  been  born,  forty  times  an  hour  — 
I  do." 

"You'll  like  a  week  alone,  I'm  sure," 
said  Jane  serenely,  "and  we'll  like  to 
have  your  mother-in-law.  Perhaps  she'll 
get  a  few  new  ideas  — " 

"She's  stubborn  as  a  mule,"  interrupted 
the  daughter-in-law. 

128 


SOUL-UPLIFTING 

"But  may  I  see  her  and  ask  her  ?  I  do 
so  want  to  help  you  a  little.  Life  must 
have  been  so  hard  for  t  you  these  last 
years." 

;  "Hard  !"  said  Katie  Croft,  with  em- 
phasis. "Hard  !  Well,  I'll  tell  you  what 
it  is,  Miss  Grey,  —  to  marry  a  young  man 
as  was  meek  as  Moses  and  then  have  him 
just  fade  right  straight  out  and  get  a 
mother-in-law  like  that  old  —  that  old  — 
that  old  —  well,  I'll  tell  you  frankly  she's 
a  siren  and  nothing  else."  (Young  Mrs. 
Croft  probably  meant  "vixen,"  but  Jane 
did  not  notice.)  "My  life  ain't  really 
worth  a  shake-up  of  mustard  and  vinegar 
some  days.  What  I  have  suffered!" 

"I  know  more  than  you  think,"  said 
Jane  sympathetically;  "nurses  take  care  of 
so  many  kinds  of  people.  But  do  let  me 
ask  her.  If  she  likes  to  come  to  us,  it'll 
be  a  great  rest  to  you,  and  perhaps  it'll 
do  her  a  little  good,  too." 

"I  can't  understand  you're  wanting  her," 
said  Katie.     "It's  all  over  town  how  queer 
129 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

you  are,  but  I  never  thought  that  anybody 
could  be  as  queer  as  that  l"^ 

"Do  let  us  go  to  her,"  Jane  urged. 

Katie  rose  and  forthwith  conducted  the 
caller  to  old  Mrs.  Croft's  room,  a  large, 
square  place  adorned  with  no  end  of  black 
daguerreotypes  and  faded  photographs. 

"Mother,  it's  Miss  Grey.  You  know? 
—  she's  Mrs.  Ralston's  niece." 

Old  Mrs.  Croft  received  her  visitor  with 
acutely  suspicious  eyes.  "Well  ?"  she  said 
tartly. 

Jane  took  her  hand,  but  she  jerked  it 
smartly  away. 

"Sit  down  anywhere,"  said  Katie;  "she 
hears  well." 

"Hear!"  said  old  Mrs.  Croft.  "I 
should  say  I  did  hear.  There  ain't  a  pan 
fell  in  the  neighborhood  for  the  last  ten 
years  as  hasn't  woke  me  out  of  a  sound 
sleep,  dreaming  of  my  husband — " 

"Miss  Grey's  come  to  see  you  about 
something,"  interrupted  Katie;  "she — " 

"I  had  a  husband,"  continued  old  Mrs. 
130 


SOUL-UPLIFTING 

Croft,  raising  her  voice  from  Do  to  Re, 
"and  such  a  one  !  Wednesday  he'd  go  to 
sleep  and  Thursdays  he'd  wake,  so  regular 
you  could  tell  the  days  of  the  week  just 
from  his  habits.  He  — " 

"Miss  Grey  wants — "  interrupted 
Katie. 

"I  came  to  — "  said  Jane. 

"I  had  a  husband,"  continued  old 
Mrs.  Croft,  going  from  Re  to  Mi  now; 
"oh,  my,  but  I  did  have  a  husband.  In 
May  I  had  him  and  in  December  I  had  him, 
but  he  was  always  the  same  to  me.  You 
can  see  his  picture  there,  Miss  Grey;  it's 
all  faded  out,  just  from  being  looked  at; 
but  I'll  tell  you  where  it  never  fades,  Miss 
Grey  —  it  never  so  much  as  turns  a  hair 
in  my  heart.  My  heart  is  engraved  — " 

"You'd  better  go  on  and  say  what  you've 
got  to  say,"  said  Katie  to  Jane.  "I  often 
put  her  to  bed  talking,  and  she  talks  all 
the  night  through." 

"I  want  to  ask  you  — "  Jane  began. 

"Ask  me  no  questions  and  I'll  tell 
131 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

you  no   lies,"   sang  Mrs.    Croft.     "Oh,  I 
had—" 

'  —  I  want  you  to  come  and  stay  with 
us,"  Jane  said,  with  forceful  accents. 

There  was  a  sudden  tense  hush. 

"My  aunt  and  I  want  you  to  come  and 
make  us  a  little  visit,"  the  caller  added. 

The  hush  grew  awful. 

"A  little  change  would  be  so  good  for 
you  —  you've  been  shut  up  so  long." 

Old  Mrs.  Croft  lifted  her  two  hands 
towards  the  ceiling. 

"What  do  you  want  to  take  me  out  of 
my  own  house  for  ?  Going  to  do  some- 
thing to  it  that  I  wouldn't  approve,  I 
expect.  Oh,  I  see  it  all.  There  was  Mac- 
beth and  there  was  Othello,  and  now  there's 
my  house  —  What  are  you  going  to  do  to 
it,  anyhow  ? "  The  question  was  pitched 
so  high  and  sharp  that  Jane  jumped. 

"We  just  want  to  give  you  a  little 
change." 

"Change  !     I  had  a  change  once.     Went 
to  Cuba  with  my  husband  and  nearly  died. 
132 


SOUL-UPLIFTING 

I  don't  want  no  change  of  house,"  with 
deep  meaning  in  the  emphasis;  "the 
change  that  I  want  is  another  change. 
Change  is  a  great  thing  to  have.  My  hus- 
band never  changed.  Only  his  collars. 
Never  no  other  way." 

"You  and  Aunt  Susan  are  old  friends  — " 
suggested  Jane. 

"Never  nothing  special,"  broke  in  old 
Mrs.  Croft.  "My  goodness,  I  do  hope 
your  aunt  ain't  calling  me  her  friend, 
because  if  she  is,  it's  a  thing  I  can't  allow." 

Jane  thanked  her  stars  that  her  powers 
of  mental  concentration  forbade  her  mind 
to  wander.  "I'm  sure  if  you  came  to  us, 
you'd  enjoy  it,"  she  said  persuasively; 
"we've  such  a  pretty  bedroom  down-stairs, 
and  I'll  sleep  on  the  dining-room  sofa,  so 
you  won't  feel  lonely." 

"Lonely.  I  never  feel  lonely.  I'd  thank 
Heaven  if  I  could  be  let  alone  for  a  little, 
once  in  a  while.  I  don't  want  to  come, 
and  that's  a  fact.  If  that  be  treason, 
make  the  most  of  it." 
133 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Oh,  but  you  must  come,"  said  Jane; 
"you'll  like  it.  We  want  you,  and  you 
must  come." 

"Well,  get  me  my  bonnet  then,"  said 
old  Mrs.  Croft.  "Run,  Katie,  I've  been 
sitting  here  waiting  for  it  for  over  an  hour." 

Katie  and  Jane  regarded  one  another 
in  consternation.  They  hadn't  quite 
counted  on  this. 

"I'm  going  visiting,"  said  Mrs.  Croft 
gaily.  "Oh,  my,  and  how  I  shall  visit. 
Years  may  come  and  years  may  go,  and 
still  I  shall  sit  there  visiting  away,  and 
when  I  hear  the  door-bell,  I  shall  know 
it's  time  for  Christmas  dinner." 

Katie  took  Jane's  hand  and  drew  her 
out  of  the  room.  "I  don't  believe  you'd 
better  take  her,"  she  said ;  "she's  so  flighty. 
I  know  how  to  manage  her,  and  you  don't. 
Just  give  it  up." 

"No,  I  won't,"  said  Jane,  smiling.  "I 
know  that  it's  a  kind  thing  to  do  and  that 
I  must  do  it.  I'm  going  to  take  her." 

"Seems  so  odd  you're  wanting  to,"  said 
134 


SOUL-UPLIFTING 

Katie.  'You're  very  funny,  I  think. 
People  are  saying  that  you  think  that 
everything's  for  the  best.  Do  you  really 
believe  that?" 

"Of  course.  We  can't  get  outside  of 
God's  plan,  whatever  we  may  do.  If  we 
do  wrong,  we  have  to  bear  the  consequences 
because  it's  as  easy  to  see  the  right  thing 
to  do  as  the  wrong,  but  the  great  Plan 


never  wavers." 


"Oh,  my,"  said  Katie.  "I'm  glad  to 
know  that." 

Jane  pressed  her  hand.  "I'll  get  things 
all  ready,  and  we'll  bring  her  over  to- 
morrow night,"  she  said;  "that'll  be  best. 
Then  she  can  go  right  to  bed  and  get  rested 
from  the  effort." 

So  it  was  arranged,  and  the  Sunshine 
Nurse  went  home  to  tell  Susan  that  Mrs. 
Croft  had  consented  to  come.  She  felt 
quite  positive  that  now  they  would  both 
attain  unto  a  higher  plane  without  any 
difficulty,  if  they  kept  such  a  guest  in  the 
house  for  a  week. 

135 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"It  isn't  going  to  be  easy,  Auntie,"  she 
said,  a  bit  later,  "but  it  will  teach  you  and 
me  a  lot,  and  if  one  wants  to  voyage  greatly, 
one  must  get  out  into  the  deep  water." 

"I'll  do  anything  to  get  hold  of  some 
different  way  of  getting  on  with  Matilda," 
said  Susan,  "and  I  begin  to  see  what  you 
mean  when  you  say  that  if  I  change  me, 
I'll  change  it  all.  If  you  could  make  flour 
into  sugar,  you'd  have  cake  instead  of 
biscuit,  but,  oh,  my!  Old  Mrs.  Croft!" 

"It  won't  be  for  so  very  long,"  said 
Jane,  "and  think  of  Katie  Croft  through 
all  these  years !  She's  been  splendid,  I 
think." 

"Well,  she  didn't  have  any  other  place 
to  live,  you  know,"  Susan  promptly  re- 
minded her  niece. 

"Work's  work,  no  matter  why  you  do  it," 
Jane  said,  "and  all  the  big  laws  work 
greatly.  This  having  old  Mrs.  Croft  is  a 
pretty  big  step  for  you  and  me  to  take, 
and  you'll  see  that  when  Aunt  Matilda 
returns,  we'll  be  so  strongly  settled  in  our 
136 


SOUL-UPLIFTING 

new  ways  that  she  can't  unsettle  us.  We'll 
be  absolutely  different  people." 

'Y  —  yes,"  said  Susan,  confidence  fight- 
ing doubt  stoutly.  "I'm  willing  to  try, 
although  left  to  myself  I  should  never 
have  thought  of  old  Mrs.  Croft  as  a  way  of 
getting  different." 

"Anything  that  we  do  with  earnest 
purpose  is  a  way  of  getting  better,"  said 
Jane.  She  looked  out  of  the  window  for 
a  minute,  and  her  lip  almost  quivered. 
Susan  didn't  notice.  "Everything  is  al- 
ways for  the  best,  if  we're  sure  of  it,"  she 
then  said  firmly. 


137 


CHAPTER  IX 

MADELEINE'S  SECRET 

THE  two  girls  were  enjoying  a  pleasant 
time  in  Susan's  big,  tidy  kitchen. 

"  I  never  knew  that  a  kitchen  could  be  so 
perfectly  lovely,"  said  Madeleine,  as  they 
took  tea  by  the  little  table  by  the  window. 
"Jane,  you  are  a  genius  !  One  opens  the 
gate  here  with  a  bubbling  feeling  that 
everything  in  the  whole  world's  all  right." 

"I'm  so  glad,"  said  Jane;  "it's  grand  to 
feel  that  one  is  a  real  channel  of  happiness. 
I  always  seem  to  see  people  as  made  to 
form  that  kind  of  connection  between  God 
and  earth,  and  that  happiness  is  the  visible 
sign  of  success,  a  good  'getting  through,' 
so  to  speak." 

"Do  you  know,  the  English  language  is 
awfully  indefinite.  That  sentence  might 
138 


MADELEINE'S  SECRET 

mean  good  flowing  like  water  through 
people,  or  people  so  made  that  good  can 
go  through  them  easily.  Do  you  see?" 

:'Yes,  I  see.  But  either  meaning  is  all 
right.  It  isn't  what  I  say  that  matters 
so  much,  anyway.  It's  how  you  take  it." 

"I  took  that  two  ways." 

"Yes,  and  both  were  good.  That's  so 
fine,  —  to  get  two  good  meanings,  where 
I  only  meant  one." 

They  smiled  together. 

"Mr.  Rath  and  I  were  talking  about 
that  last  evening,"  said  Madeleine,  the 
color  coming  into  her  face  a  little.  "Do 
you  know,  he's  really  a  very  dear  man. 
He's  awfully  nice." 

Jane  jumped  up  to  drive  a  wasp  out  of 
the  window.  :<You  know  him  better  than 
I  do,"  she  said,  very  busy. 

"I've  known  him  for  several  years,  but 
never  as  well  as  here." 

Jane  came  back  and  sat  down.  Made- 
leine was  silent,  seeming  to  search  for 
words. 

139 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"You  were  going  to  tell  me  a  secret," 
her  friend  said,  after  a  little. 

"I  know,  but  I  —  I  can't." 

Jane  lifted  her  eyes  almost  pitifully. 
"Why  not?" 

"I  don't  feel  that  I  have  the  right,  after 
all.  Secrets  are  such  precious  things." 

"If  I  can  help  you  — ?" 

"  Oh,  no,  no.  —  It  isn't  any  trouble. 
It's  something  quite  different  —  I  —  I 
thought  that  perhaps  I  could  tell  you  my 
thoughts,  but  —  I  can't." 

There  was  a  silence. 

"There  are  such  wonderful  feelings  in  the 
world,"  Madeleine  went  on,  after  a  little; 
"they  don't  seem  to  fit  into  words  at  all. 
One  feels  ashamed  to  have  even  planned 
to  talk  about  them.  One  feels  so  humble 
when — "  she  paused  —  then  closed  her 
lips. 

Jane  put  out  her  hand  and  took  the  hand 
upon  the  other  side  of  the  little  table,  close. 
"Don't  mind  me,  dear;  I  understand." 

"Do  you  really?" 

140 


MADELEINE'S  SECRET 

"Yes." 

Madeleine's  eyes  were  anxious.  "Do 
you  guess  ?  Did  you  guess  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  how  — what  —  what  do  you 
think?" 

"I  think  that  it  would  be  lovely,  only,  of 
course,  I  don't  quite  know  it  all,  for  I  shall 
never  have  anything  like  it." 

Madeleine  started.  "Oh,  Jane,  don't  say 
that." 

"But  it's  so,  dear." 

"Oh,  no." 

"No,  dear,  —  I  can  guess  and  sympathize. 
But  I  shall  never  have  any  such  happiness. 
It's  —  it's  quite  settled." 

Madeleine  left  her  seat,  went  round  by 
the  side  of  the  other  girl,  flung  herself 
down  on  the  floor,  and  looked  as  if  she  were 
about  to  cry.  "Oh,  Jane,  you  mustn't 
feel  so.  Why  shouldn't  you  marry  ?" 

"  I  can't,  dear ;  I've  debts  of  my  father's 
to  pay,  and  I'm  pledged  to  my  Order." 

"But  they'll  get  paid  after  a  while." 
141 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"It  will  take  all  my  youth." 

"But  a  way  can  be  found  ?" 

"No  way  can  ever  be.  There  is  no  one 
in  the  wide  world  to  help  me.  I'm  quite 
alone." 

"Why,  Jane,"  said  Madeleine,  always 
kneeling  and  always  looking  up,  "I  know 
some  one  who  can  manage  everything,  and 
you  do,  too." 

Jane  stared  a  little.  "My  aunt,  do  you 
mean?" 

"No,  — God." 

Jane  smiled  suddenly.  "  Thank  you,  dear. 
I  hadn't  forgotten,  but  I  just  didn't  think. 
Still,  I  think  God  means  me  to  be  brave 
about  my  burdens.  I  don't  think  that  He 
sees  them  as  things  from  which  to  be 
relieved." 

Madeleine  was  still  looking  up.  "But 
the  channel  doesn't  think ;  the  channel 
just  conveys  what  pours  along  it,"  she 
whispered. 

Just  at  this  second  the  scene  altered. 

"Oh,  there's  my  aunt !"  Jane  exclaimed. 
142 


MADELEINE'S  SECRET 

Susan  passed  the  window,  and  the  next 
minute  she  came  in  the  door.  "I've  had 
the  most  bee  —  youtiful  afternoon,"  she 
announced  radiantly.  "I  did  Jane  lots  of 
credit,  for  I  never  said  a  word  about  any- 
body, but  oh,  how  splendid  it  was  to  just 
be  good  and  silent,  and  hear  all  the  others 
talk.  They  talked  about  everybody,  and 
a  good  many  were  of  my  own  opinion,  so  I 
had  considerable  satisfaction  without  doing 
a  thing  wrong." 

Jane  couldn't  help  laughing  or  Madeleine, 
either.  "Was  young  Mrs.  Croft  there  ?" 

"No,  and  most  everybody  says  that  she'll 
go  off  to-morrow  and  never  come  back,  and 
we'll  have  old  Mrs.  Croft  till  she  dies. 
They  looked  at  me  pretty  hard,  but  I 
stuck  to  my  soul  and  never  said  a  word." 

"It  was  noble  in  you,  Auntie,"  Jane  said 
warmly. 

"Yes,   it  was,"   assented   Susan.    Then 

she  turned  to  Madeleine,  who  had  returned 

to  her  chair.  "Jane's  religion's  pretty  hard 

on  me,  but  I  like  its  results,  and  I  can  do 

143 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

anything  I  set  out  to  do,  and  I  don't  mean 
to  not  get  a  future  if  I  can  help  it.  You 
see,  my  sister  Matilda  is  a  very  peculiar 
person.  You  must  know  that  by  this 
time?" 

"I  have  heard  a  good  deal  about  her," 
Madeleine  admitted. 

"Well,  I  hope  it  isn't  unkind  in  me  to 
say  that  I  know  more  than  anybody  else 
can  possibly  imagine." 

"But  she's  coming  back  all  right,"  Jane 
interrupted  firmly;  "we  mustn't  forget 
that." 

"No,"  said  Susan,  with  a  quick  gasp  in 
her  breath;  "no,  I'm  not  forgetting  a 
thing.  I'm  only  talking  a  little.  And  oh, 
how  Mrs.  Cowmull  did  talk  about  you, 
Madeleine.  She  says  Mr.  Rath  can't  put 
his  nose  out  of  the  door  alone." 

"That's  dreadful,"  said  Madeleine,  try- 
ing not  to  color,  "especially  as  we  always 
come  straight  here." 

"Well,  I  tell  you  it's  pretty  hard  work 
being  good,"  said  Susan,  with  a  cheerful 
144 


MADELEINE'S  SECRET 

sigh ;  "it's  a  relief  to  get  home  and  take  off 
one's  bonnet." 

"And  don't  you  want  some  tea,  Auntie  ? 
It's  all  hot  under  the  cozy." 

:'Yes,  I  will,  you  Sunshine  Jane,  you. 
I'll  never  cease  to  be  grateful  for  good  tea 
again  as  long  as  I  live.  I've  had  five  years 
of  the  other  kind  to  help  me  remember." 

Later,  when  Madeleine  was  gone,  Susan 
said:  "Do  you  know,  Jane,  Katie  Croft  is 
certainly  going  to  desert  that  awful  old 
woman  when  we  get  her  here  ?  Every- 
body says  so." 

"No,  she  isn't,  Auntie;  the  expected  is 
never  what  happens." 

"Jane,  any  one  with  your  religion  can't 
rely  on  proverbs  to  help  them  out,  because 
the  whole  thing  puts  you  right  outside  of 
common-sense  to  begin  with." 

Jane  was  sitting  looking  out  upon  the 
pretty  garden.  "I  know,  Auntie;  I  only 
quoted  that  in  reference  to  the  Sewing 
Society  gossip.  It's  never  the  expected 
that  happens  in  their  world ;  it's  the  ex- 
145 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

pected  that  always  happens  in  my  world. 
And  proverbs  don't  exist  in  my  world ;  they're 
every  one  of  them  a  human  limitation." 
"Well,  Jane,  I  don't  know;  some  of 
them  are  very  pretty,  and  when  I've  seen 
Matilda  over  the  fence  and  run  down  to 
get  a  few  scraps,  I've  taken  considerable 
comfort  in  'No  cloud  without  a  silver 
lining'  and  'It  never  rains  but  it  pours.' 
They  were  a  great  help  to  me." 

Jane  kissed  her  tenderly.     "Bless  you, 
Auntie,  —  everything's    all    right    and    all 
lovely,  and  Madeleine  made  me  so  happy 
to-day.     I'm  sure  that  she's  engaged." 
"Yes,  I've  thought  that,  too." 
"Yes,  and  I'm  so  glad  for  her." 
"I  hope  he's  good  enough  for  her." 
"Oh,  I'm  sure  that  he  is."     Jane  thought 
a  minute.  "And  Madeleine  gave  me  a  big 
lesson,  too,"  she  added. 
"What?" 

"She  showed  me  that  with  all  my  teach- 
ing and  preaching,  I  don't  trust  God  half 
enough  yet." 

146 


MADELEINE'S  SECRET 

"Well,  Jane,"  said  Susan  solemnly,  "I 
s'pose  trusting  God  is  like  being  grateful 
for  the  sunshine,  —  human  beings  ain't  big 
enough  to  hold  all  they  ought  to  feel." 

"Perhaps  we'd  be  nothing  but  trust  and 
gratitude,  then,"  said  Jane,  smiling. 

"They're  nice  feelings  to  be  made  of," 
said  Susan  serenely,  "but  I  must  go  and 
put  my  bonnet  away.  But,  oh,  heavens, 
when  I  think  that  to-morrow  old  Mrs. 
Croft  is  coming  !  " 

"And  that  lots  of  good  is  coming  with 
her ;  she  is  coming  to  bring  happiness  and 
happiness  only." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  Susan's  air  was  com- 
pletely submissive.  "I  can  hardly  wait 
for  her  to  get  here.  They  wondered  at  the 
Sewing  Society  if  she'd  sing  Captain  Jinks 
all  night  often.  She  does  sometimes,  you 
know.  But  I'm  sure  we'll  like  her.  She's 
a  nice  woman." 


147 


CHAPTER  X 

OLD   MRS.    CROFT 

OLD  Mrs.  Croft  arrived  the  next  after- 
noon about  half  after  four.  She  was 
rolled  up  in  her  chair,  and  her  small  trunk 
followed  on  a  wheelbarrow. 

"How  old  you  have  grown  !"  she  said 
to  Susan,  by  way  of  greeting,  as  she  grated 
up  the  gravel.  "My,  to  think  you  ever 
looked  young  !" 

They  wheeled  her  into  the  hall.  "Same 
hall,"  she  said,  looking  about,  "same 
paper  you  had  thirty  years  ago.  Oh,  my, 
to  think  of  it.  I've  papered  and  papered 
and  scraped  off,  and  papered  and  papered 
and  scraped  off,  and  then  papered  again  in 
those  same  thirty  years." 

They  got  her  into  the  room  on  the  ground 
floor,  which  had  been  prepared  for  her. 
"I  suppose  this  was  the  most  convenient 
148 


OLD  MRS.   CROFT 

place  to  put  me,"  she  said,  "and  so  you 
put  me  in  it.  Put  me  where  you  please, 
only  I  do  hope  you  haven't  beetles.  It 
makes  me  very  nervous  to  hear  'em  chipping 
about  all  night,  and  when  I'm  nervous,  I 
don't  sleep,  and  when  I  don't  sleep,  I  just 
can't  help  lying  awake.  It's  a  way  I've 
got.  I  caught  it  from  my  husband  when 
he  was  a  baby.  He'd  wake  up  and  give 
it  to  me." 

Susan  went  out  with  Jane  to  get  her  some 
supper.  "I  never  thought  much  about 
Katie  Croft,"  she  said,  "but  I  never  doubted 
she  had  a  hard  time." 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  "and  one  of  the  nicest 
things  in  this  world  is  to  be  able  to  give 
some  one  who's  had  a  hard  time  a  rest." 

"Wouldn't  it  be  dreadful  if  she  died, 
though,  while  she  was  here  ?" 

"Who?    Old  Mrs.  Croft?" 

"Oh,  no,  she  won't  ever  die.     I  meant 
Katie.     Everybody  says  she's  going  to  run 
away,  but  if  she  don't  do  that  and  dies, 
we'll  be  just  as  badly  off  as  if  she  did  it." 
149 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Oh,  Auntie!" 

"Well,  Jane,  we'd  have  to  keep  old  Mrs. 
Croft  till  she  died." 

"I  guess  there's  not  much  chance  of 
that,"  Jane  said;  "she  won't  die.  She 
has  come  here  to  do  us  good  and  to  receive 
good  herself,  that's  all." 

Susan  looked  appalled.  "Surely  you 
don't  expect  to  sunshine  her  up,  do  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  do." 

Then  Susan  looked  amazed.  "Well,  I 
never  did  !  I  thought  she  was  just  here 
to  do  us  good.  I  — " 

Their  conversation  was  suddenly  in- 
terrupted by  a  piercing  shriek.  Jane  flew. 

"I'm  so  happy  I  just  had  to  let  it  out," 
Mrs.  Croft  announced.  "I  can't  hold  in 
joy  or  sorrow.  Sorrow  I  let  out  in  the  low 
of  my  voice  —  like  a  cow,  you  know  —  but 
joy  I  let  rise  to  the  skies.  You'll  hear 
to-night." 

Jane  looked  at  her  and  smiled.  She 
looked  like  a  story-book  witch  in  a  nice, 
white,  modern  bed.  "I  thought  that  per- 
150 


OLD  MRS.   CROFT 

haps  you  wanted  something,"  she  said, 
turning  to  leave  the  room  again. 

"No,  indeed,  I  never  want  anything. 
I  ain't  by  no  means  so  bad  off  as  is  give 
out." 

"I  guessed  as  much.  You  can  make  a 
fresh  start  now,  and  we  shan't  remind  you 
of  the  past." 

"Oh,  then  I'm  coming  to  the  table,"  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Croft,  "and  I'm  going  to  be 
helped  like  a  Christian  and  feed  myself 
like  a  human  being.  This  being  put  to  bed 
and  just  all  but  tied  there  with  a  rope  isn't 
going  to  go  on  much  longer,  I  can  tell  you." 

"Don't  speak  of  it  at  all,"  said  Jane; 
"you  just  do  what  you  please  here,  and 
we'll  let  you.  I'm  going  to  get  you  your 
supper  now." 

"Stop  !"  cried  old  Mrs.  Croft  sharply. 
"Stop  !  I  won't  have  it !  I  won't  stand 
it.  Oh,  I've  had  such  a  time,"  she  went 
on,  bringing  her  clenched  fist  down  vigor- 
ously on  her  knee  under  the  bedclothes 
and  raising  her  voice  very  high  indeed, 
151 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"such  a  time  !  I  had  a  beautiful  son  that 
you  or  any  girl  might  have  been  proud  to 
marry,  and  then  he  must  go  and  marry  that 
Katie  Croft  creature.  There  ain't  many 
things  to  cut  a  mother's  heart  to  the  quick 
like  seeing  her  own  son  marry  her  own 
daughter-in-law.  Such  a  nice  raised  boy 
as  he  was,  so  neat,  and  she  kicking  her 
clothes  under  the  bed  at  night  to  tidy  up 
the  room.  Oh  !"  cried  Mrs.  Croft,  lifting 
her  voice  to  a  still  more  surprising  pitch, 
"what  I  have  suffered  !  Nothing  ain't  been 
spared  me.  I  lost  my  son  and  the  use  of 
my  legs  from  the  shock  and  — " 

"Supper  is  all  ready,"  Jane  interrupted 
sweetly  and  calmly. 

"What  you  got?" 

"Sardines—" 

"I  never  eat  'em." 

"Toast." 

"I  hate  it." 

"Plum  preserves." 

"Lord  have  mercy  on  me,  I  wouldn't 
swallow  one  if  you  gave  it  to  me." 
152 


OLD   MRS.   CROFT 

Jane  stood  still  at  the  door. 

Susan,  having  heard  the  screams,  came 
running  in. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  Ralston,"  cried  Mrs.  Croft, 
"I  had"  —  Jane  rose,  approached  the  bed, 
and  laid  a  firm  hand  on  her  arm.  "What 
do  you  want  for  supper?"  she  asked  in  a 
quiet,  penetrating  tone. 

"I  don't  want  nothing,"  cried  Mrs. 
Croft;  "days  I  eat  and  days  I  don't. 
This  is  a  day  I  don't  eat,  and  on  such  a  day 
I  only  take  a  little  ham  and  eggs  from  time 
to  time.  Oh,  my  husband,  how  I  did  love 
you  !  It's  just  come  over  me  how  I  loved 
him,  and  I  love  him  so  I  can't  hardly  stand 
it—" 

"We'll  go  out  and  have  supper  our- 
selves, then,"  said  Jane. 

"  Eat,  drink,  and  be  merry  while  you  can," 
fairly  yelled  Mrs.  Croft.  "The  handwriting 
is  on  the  wall  and  the  Medes  and  Persians 
is  in  the  chicken  yard  right  now.  Oh, 
what  a  — " 

They  slipped  out  and  shut  the  door  after 
153 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

them.  Susan  turned  a  scared  face  Jane's 
way.  "Why,  she's  crazy !"  she  said. 
"Katie  always  said  so,  and  folks  thought 
she  was  just  talking.  It's  awful." 

"She's  a  little  excited  with  the  change," 
said  Jane  soothingly ;  "  she'll  be  calmer 
soon.  It's  very  bad  to  shut  one's  self  off 
from  others.  It's  better  to  fuss  along 
with  disagreeable  people  than  to  live  alto- 
gether alone.  She's  grown  flighty  through 
being  left  alone.  It's  a  wonder  that  you 
didn't  get  odd  yourself." 

When  they  went  back  after  supper,  Mrs. 
Croft  was  sound  asleep. 

"Don't  wake  her,  for  goodness'  sake," 
whispered  Susan,  in  the  doorway.  Jane 
left  the  room  quietly,  and  her  aunt  took 
her  by  the  arm  and  led  her  up-stairs. 
"This  is  pretty  serious,"  she  said.  "I 
think  Katie  Croft  ought  to  have  told  us." 

"She  didn't  want  her  to  come;  we  in- 
sisted," said  Jane. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said  Susan,  "we  were 
too  happy." 

154 


OLD   MRS.   CROFT 

Susan's  tone  was  so  solemn  that  Jane 
had  an  odd  little  qualm.  But  the  next 
instant  she  knew  that  all  was  right,  because 
all  is  always  right.  "Auntie,"  she  said, 
putting  her  hand  on  the  older  woman's 
shoulder,  "y°u  must  try  to  realize  that 
you've  moved  out  of  the  world  where  things 
go  wrong  into  the  world  where  things  go 
right.  When  you  go  out  of  the  cold,  dark 
winter  night  into  a  cosy,  warm  house,  you 
don't  fear  that  the  house  will  turn  dark 
and  cold  any  minute." 

"But  old  Mrs.  Croft  isn't  a  house ;  she's 
moved  into  us,  instead." 

Jane  smiled  her  customary  smile  of 
tranquil  sweetness.  "She  has  come  to 
show  us  ourselves,"  she  said,  "and  to  bring 
us  to  some  kind  of  better  things.  I  know 
it." 

Susan's  eyes  altered  to  confidence. 
"Well,  Sunshine  Jane,"  she  said,  "I'll  try 
to  believe  that  you  know.  I'll  try." 

They  went  to  bed  early,  and  Jane  slept 
on  the  dining-room  sofa.  In  the  night 
155 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Mrs.  Croft,  calling,  woke  her.  She  jumped 
up  and  went  to  her  at  once. 

"I'm  hungry.  You  didn't  ask  me  here 
to  starve  me,  did  you  ?  Oh,  how  hungry 
I  am.  I've  never  been  so  hungry  before." 

"I'll  get  you  anything  you  like,"  the  girl 
said.  "What  shall  it  be?" 

Mrs.  Croft  shook  her  head  lugubriously. 
"Whatever  I  eat  is  sure  to  kill  me.  I  wish 
I  was  home.  You  don't  know  how  good 
dear  Katie  is  to  me,  Miss  Grey.  Nobody 
could,  unless  they  lived  with  her  year  in 
and  year  out  as  I  do.  Something  told  me 
never  to  leave  my  sweet  child,  and  I  dis- 
obeyed my  conscience  which  won't  let  me 
sleep  for  aching  like  a  serpent's  tooth.  Oh, 
my  little  Katie,  my  pretty  little  Katie,  my 
loving  little  Katie  that  I  went  and  left  at 
home  !  Take  me  to  her." 

"But  she  isn't  at  home,"  said  Jane. 
"She's  gone  away  on  a  little  visit.  She 
went  last  evening." 

"I  shall  never  see  her  again,"  said  Mrs. 
Croft  mournfully.  "I  shall  never  see  no 
156 


OLD  MRS.   CROFT 

one  again.  Oh,  dear;  oh,  dear.  My  eyes. 
My  eyes." 

"What  shall  I  get  you?  A  glass  of 
milk?" 

"It  doesn't  matter.  Whatever  you  like. 
I  was  never  one  to  make  trouble.  What- 
ever you  like." 

When  Jane  returned  with  the  milk  and 
some  hastily  prepared  bread  and  butter, 
Mrs.  Croft  was  praying  rapidly.  "I  think 
I've  got  religion,"  said  she,  in  a  bright, 
chatty  tone;  "if  you'll  sit  down,  I'll  con- 
vert you.  It's  never  too  late  to  mend, 
and  so  get  your  darning  basket  and  come 
right  here."  She  began  to  eat  and  drink 
very  rapidly.  "It's  going  to  kill  me,"  she 
said,  between  bites,  "but  I  don't  care  a 
mite.  What  is  life  after  all,  —  a  vain 
fleeting  shadow  of  vanity,  —  why,  you 
ain't  put  no  jam  on  this  bread  !" 

"Do  you  like  jam  ?  I'll  get  you  some  at 
once." 

"Oh,  merciful  heavens,  waking  me  up 
in  the  dead  of  night  to  give  me  plain  bread 
157 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

and  no  jam  !  I  shall  never  see  Katie  again, 
and  perhaps  it's  just  as  well,  for  she'd  not 
stand  such  doings.  Oh,  you  idle,  thriftless 
girl,  take  me  home,  take  me  home  at  once." 

"In  the  morning,"  said  Jane  gently. 

"Oh,  my,  —  why  did  I  ever  come! 
Katie,  my  Katie,  my  long-loving  Katie ; 
my  dear  little  Katie  that's  gone  to  New 
York!" 

Then,  having  swallowed  the  milk  in 
great  gulps  and  the  bread  in  great  bites, 
she  shut  her  eyes  and  lay  back  again  in  bed. 

"Shan't  I  bring  you  anything  else?" 
Jane  asked. 

"No,"  said  the  invalid,  "not  by  no  means, 
and  I'll  trouble  you  to  get  out  and  keep 
out  and  don't  make  a  noise  in  the  morning, 
for  I  want  my  last  hours  to  be  peaceful, 
and  I'm  going  to  take  a  screw-driver  and 
fix  my  thoughts  firmly  to  heaven  at  once." 

Jane  went  softly  out. 


158 


CHAPTER  XI 

SHE    SLEEPS 

next  morning  Susan  felt  perturbed. 
She'll  take  up  a  whole  week  of  our 
happy  visit,  and  I  can't  bear  to  lose  a 
minute.  The  time's  going  too  fast,  any- 
how." 

Lorenzo  Rath  came  in  shortly  after. 
He  and  Madeleine  and  Emily  Mead  were 
in  and  out  daily  to  suit  themselves  by  this 
time.  "Do  you  know,  Mrs.  Croft  has 
gone  off,  nobody  knows  where,"  he  said 
gravely ;  "she's  left  no  address,  and  people 
say  she'll  never  come  back." 

Susan  threw  up  her  hands  with  a  wail. 

"Oh,  Jane,  she  has  left  that  dreadful  old 

woman  on  us  for  life ;  I'll  just  bet  anything 

folks  knew  exactly  that  she  meant  to  do  it 

159 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

when   they   talked   to   me  so.     What  will 
Matilda  say  when  she  comes  back  ?" 

Jane  was  silent  a  minute.  "It's  no  use 
doubting  what  one  really  believes,"  she 
said  finally.  "I  do  really  believe  that  I 
came  here  for  a  good  purpose,  and  I  know 
that  I  had  a  good  purpose  in  inviting  Mrs. 
Croft.  I'm  taught  that  to  doubt  is  like 
pouring  ink  into  the  pure  water  of  one's 
good  intentions,  and  I  won't  doubt.  I 
refuse  to." 

"But  if  you  go  back  to  where  you  come 
from  and  leave  me  with  Matilda  and  old 
Mrs.  Croft,  I'll  be  dead  or  I'll  wish  I  was 
dead,  —  it  all  comes  to  the  same  thing," 
cried  poor  Susan. 

"Auntie,"  said  Jane  firmly,  "I  shan't 
leave  you  alone  with  Aunt  Matilda  and 
Mrs.  Croft,  you  needn't  fear." 

"Oh,"  said  Susan,  her  face  undergoing  a 
lightning  transformation,  "if  you'll  stay 
here,  I'll  keep  Mrs.  Croft  or  anybody  else, 
with  pleasure." 

"What,  even  me?"  laughed  Lorenzo. 
160 


SHE  SLEEPS 

"I'd  like  to  keep  you,"  said  Susan 
warmly.  "I  think  you're  one  of  the  nicest 
young  men  I  ever  knew." 

"I'd  like  to  stay,"  said  Lorenzo,  looking 
at  Jane. 

She  lifted  up  her  eyes  and  they  had  a 
peculiar  expression. 

Just  then  Emily  Mead  came  in.  "Only 
think,"  she  said,  directly  greetings  were 
over,  "people  say  Mrs.  Croft  drew  all 
their  money  out  of  the  bank  before  she  left. 
Everybody  says  she's  deserted  her  mother- 
in-law  completely." 

"Jane,  it  really  is  so,"  said  Susan;  "she 
really  is  gone." 

Jane  looked  steadily  into  their  three 
faces.  "If  I  begin  worrying  and  doubting, 
of  course  there'll  be  a  chance  to  worry  and 
trouble,  because  I'm  the  strongest  of  you 
all,"  she  said  gravely,  "but  I  won't  go 
down  and  live  in  the  world  of  worry  and 
trouble  under  any  circumstances.  I  know 
that  only  good  can  come  of  Mrs.  Croft's 
being  here.  I  know  it!" 
161 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"I  wish  that  I  could  learn  how  you 
manage  such  faith,"  said  the  young  artist. 
"I'd  try  it  on  myself,  —  yes,  I  would,  for 
a  fact." 

"It's  not  so  easy,"  said  Jane,  looking 
earnestly  at  him.  "It  means  just  the 
same  mental  discipline  that  physical  cul- 
ture means  for  the  muscles.  It  takes 
time." 

"But  I'd  like  to  learn,"  said  Lorenzo. 

"So  would  I !"  said  Emily  Mead. 

"I've  begun  already,"  said  Susan; 
"every  time  I  think  of  old  Mrs.  Croft  I 
say:  *  She's  here  for  some  good  purpose, 
God  help  us.'" 

"Tell  me,"  said  Emily  Mead,  "what 
possessed  you  to  have  her,  anyway  ? 
Everybody's  wondering." 

"Jane  thought  that  it  would  be  a  nice 
thing  to  do.  And  so  we  did  it." 

"Do  you  always  do  things  if  you  think 
of  them  ?"  Emily  asked  Jane. 

"I'm  taught  that  I  must." 

"Taught?" 

162 


SHE  SLEEPS 

"It's  part  of  my  sunshine  work." 

"That's  why  she's  here,"  interposed 
Susan ;  "she  thought  of  me  and  came  right 
along." 

Emily  looked  thoughtful.  "I  wonder  if 
I  could  learn,"  she  said. 

"Anybody  can  learn  anything,"  said 
Lorenzo. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  nice  to  all  learn  Jane's 
religion  ?" 

"I've  got  it  most  learned,"  said  Susan, 
"I'm  to  where  I'm  most  ready  to  stand 
Matilda,  if  only  we  don't  have  to  keep  old 
Mrs.  Croft." 

"What  is  old  Mrs.  Croft  doing  now?" 
Emily  asked  suddenly. 

"She's  still  asleep.  She  says  that  she 
sleeps  late." 

Then  Emily  rose  to  go.  Lorenzo  Rath 
rose  and  left  with  her. 

"Jane,"  said  Susan  solemnly,  after  they 

were  alone,   "I'm  afraid  that  religion  of 

yours  ain't  as  practical  as  it  might  be,  after 

all.     It's   got   us   old   Mrs.    Croft,    and   I 

163 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

ain't  saying  a  word,  but  now  I'm  about 
positive  it's  going  to  lose  you  that  young 
man.  You  could  have  him  if  you'd  just 
exert  yourself  a  little,  and  you  don't  at 
all." 

"I  couldn't  have  him,  Auntie." 

"Yes,  you  could.  Don't  tell  me.  I 
know  a  young  man  when  I  see  one,  and  Mr. 
Rath's  a  real  young  man.  He  loves  you, 
Jane,  just  because  nobody  could  help  it, 
and  if  you  weren't  always  so  busy,  he'd 
get  on  a  good  deal  faster." 

"I  can't  marry,  Aunt  Susan."  Jane, 
with  Madeleine's  secret  high  in  her  heart, 
was  very  busy  setting  the  kitchen  to  rights. 
"  Some  people  are  not  meant  to  have  homes 
of  their  own.  It's  the  century." 

"Fiddle  for  the  century,"  said  Susan, 
with  something  almost  like  violence.  "I'm 
awful  tired  of  all  this  hash  and  talk  about 
the  century.  About  the  only  thing  I've 
had  to  think  of  since  Matilda  made  up  her 
mind  I  was  too  sick  to  get  up,  was  what  I 
read  in  newspapers  about  the  troubles  of 
164 


SHE  SLEEPS 

the  century.  Centuries  is  always  in  hot 
water  till  they're  well  over,  and  then  they 
get  to  be  called  the  good  old  days.  I  guess 
days  ain't  so  different  nor  centuries  either 
nor  women  neither.  Fiddle  for  all  this 
kind  of  rubbish,  —  it's  no  use  except  to 
upset  a  nice  girl  like  you  and  keep  her  from 
marrying  a  nice  young  fellow  like  Mr.  Rath . 
Girls  don't  know  nothing  about  love  no 
more.  Mercy  on  us,  why,  it's  a  kind  of 
thing  that  makes  you  willing  to  go  right 
out  and  hack  down  trees  for  the  man." 

Jane  looked  a  little  smiling  and  a  little 
wistful.  "I'll  tell  you  what  it  is,  Auntie," 
she  said;  "when  my  father  died  he  left  a 
debt  that  ought  to  be  paid,  and  I  promised 
him  I'd  pay  it.  I  couldn't  marry  —  it 
wouldn't  be  honest." 

Susan's  eyes  flew  pitifully  open.  "Good 
heavens,  mercy  on  us,  no;  then  you  never 
can't  marry,  sure  and  certain.  There  never 
was  the  man  yet  so  good  he  wouldn't  throw 
a  thing  like  that  in  a  woman's  teeth.  It's 
a  man's  way,  my  dear,  and  a  wife  ought  not 
165 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

to  mind,  but  one  of  the  difficulties  of  being 
a  wife  is  that  you  always  do  mind." 

"I  know  that  I  should  mind,"  said  Jane 
quietly,  "and,  anyway,  I  don't  want  to 
marry.  I'm  much  happier  going  about  on 
my  sunbeam  mission,  trying  to  help  others 
a  bit  here  and  a  bit  there."  She  smiled 
bravely  as  she  spoke,  for  all  that  it  takes  a 
deal  of  training  in  truth  not  to  waver  or 
quaver  in  such  a  minute.  She  had  to  think 
steadily  along  the  lines  which  she  had 
worked  so  hard  to  build  into  every  brain- 
cell  and  spirit-fiber  of  her  make-up. 
"Auntie,"  she  went  on  then,  after  a  brief 
reflection  that  he  who  works  in  truth's  wool 
works  without  fear  as  to  the  breaking  of 
one  single  thread,  "you  and  I  are  trying 
dreadfully  hard  —  trying  with  all  our  might 
to  do  exactly  right.  We're  trying  to  break 
your  chains  by  the  only  way  in  which 
material  chains  can  be  broken,  —  by  break- 
ing those  of  others.  We  can't  go  astray. 
If  old  Mrs.  Croft  should  stay  here  till  she 
died,  and  if  I  should  work  till  I  died  at 
166 


SHE  SLEEPS 

paying  the  debts  of  others,  she'd  stay  for 
some  good  purpose,  and  I'd  be  working  in 
the  same  way.  Be  very  sure  of  that." 

For  a  second  Susan  looked  cheered  —  but 
only  for  a  second.  Then,  "That's  all  very 
well  for  you  and  me,  who  want  to  be  up- 
lifted —  at  least  you  want  to  be,  and  I 
think  maybe  I'll  like  it  after  I  get  a  little 
used  to  it.  But  Matilda  doesn't  know  or 
care  anything  about  planes,  and  it's  Matilda 
I  keep  thinking  of."  There  was  another 
pause,  and  then  she  added:  "And  it's 
Matilda  I'll  have  to  live  with,  —  along 
with  old  Mrs.  Croft.  Oh,  Jane,  I'd  be  so 
much  happier  if  you'd  marry  Mr.  Rath  and 
let  me  come  and  live  with  you  !" 

Jane  went  and  put  her  arms  about  her. 
"Auntie,  it  isn't  easy  to  learn  my  way  of 
looking  at  things,  because  you  have  to  keep 
at  them  till  they're  so  firm  in  you  that 
nothing  from  outside  can  ever  shake  or  up- 
root them.  But  what  I  believe  is  just  so 
firm  with  me,  and  I  won't  give  anything  up, 
—  not  even  about  Mrs.  Croft.  We're  all 
167 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

right  and  she's  all  right  and  everything's 
all  right,  and  I  don't  need  to  marry  any 
one." 

Susan  winked  mournfully.  "If  there 
was  only  some  way  to  meet  Matilda  on  her 
way  home  and  kind  of  get  that  through  her 
head  before  she  saw  Mrs.  Croft.  You  see, 
she  always  shuts  that  room  up  cold  winters 
and  keeps  cold  meat  in  there.  I've  had 
many  a  good  meal  out  of  that  room." 

"You  must  not  cast  about  for  ways  and 
means,"  said  Jane  firmly.  "Life  is  like  a 
sunshiny  warm  day,  and  our  part  is  to 
breathe  and  feel  and  thank  God,  —  not  to 
look  for  the  sun  to  surely  cease  shining." 

"But  it  does  stop,"  wailed  Susan, "of ten." 

"Yes,  thank  Heaven,"  said  Jane,  "if  it 
didn't,  we'd  be  burnt  up  alive  by  our  own 
vitality." 

"Oh,  dear,"  said  Susan  briefly,  "you've 
an  answer  for  everything.  Well,  let's  get 
dinner." 

They  went  into  the  kitchen. 


168 


CHAPTER  XII 

EMILY'S  PROJECT 

A  FTER  dinner  that  day  Emily  Mead 
•**•  came  with  her  work.  Emily  Mead 
was  one  of  those  nondescript  girls  who  seem 
to  spring  up  more  and  more  thickly  in  these 
troublous,  churned-up  times  of  ours. 

Too  pretty  to  be  plain,  too  unattractive 
to  be  beautiful.  Too  well-to-do  to  need 
to  work,  too  poor  to  attain  to  anything  for 
which  she  longed.  Too  clever  to  belong  to 
her  class,  not  clever  enough  to  rise  above  it. 
Altogether  a  very  fit  subject  for  Jane  to 
"sunshine,"  as  her  aunt  put  it. 

"How  do  you  get  along  with  old  Mrs. 
Croft  ?"  she  asked,  directly  she  was  seated. 

"She's    asleep    yet,"    Jane    said;     "she 
was  so  restless  all  night." 
169 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"She  always  sleeps  days  and  is  awake  all 
night ;  didn't  you  know  that  before  ? " 
queried  Emily,  in  surprise.  "Some  one 
ought  to  have  told  you." 

"It  doesn't  matter,"  said  Jane  serenely. 
There  was  never  any  bravado  in  her  se- 
renity ;  it  was  quite  sincere. 

"That  was  what  made  Katie  so  mad," 
Emily  continued.  "She  said  it  gave  her 
her  days,  to  be  sure,  but,  as  she  couldn't 
very  well  sleep,  too,  all  day,  she  never  really 
had  any  time  herself." 

"We'll  get  along  all  right,"  said  Jane 
quietly;  "old  people  have  ways,  and  then 
they  change  and  have  other  ways,  and  the 
rest  must  expect  to  be  considerate." 

"Mercy  on  us,  I  wonder  what  she'll 
change  to  next,"  said  Susan,  with  feeling. 
She  had  just  returned  from  listening  at  the 
invalid's  door. 

"  Don't  worry,  Auntie,  —  just  remem- 
ber !"  Jane's  smile  was  at  once  bright 
and  also  a  bit  admonitory. 

"I'm  trying  to  believe  that  everything's 
170 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

all  right  always,  too,"  said  Susan  to  Emily, 
"but,  oh,  my  !" 

They  went  out  on  the  shady  side  of  the 
house  to  where  a  little  table  stood,  which 
was  made  out  of  a  board  nailed  into  a  cut- 
off tree  stump.  Jane  and  Emily  carried 
chairs,  and  Susan  brought  her  darning 
basket.  It  was  delightfully  pleasant. 
From  time  to  time  Jane  or  her  aunt  slipped 
in  and  listened  at  the  door,  but  old  Mrs. 
Croft  slept  on  like  a  baby. 

"I  do  wonder  if  Katie  Croft  has  really 
gone  for  good  !"  Emily  said  to  Susan,  while 
Jane  was  absent  on  one  of  these  errands. 

"I  can't  trust  myself  even  with  my  own 
opinions,"  said  Susan  reservedly;  "I  haven't 
much  time  to  get  changed  before  Matilda 
comes,  you  know,  and  I  want  to  believe  in 
Jane's  religion  if  I  can.  It's  so  kind  of 
warm  and  comforting.  I  like  it." 

"Jane,"  Emily  said,  turning  towards  her 
when  she  returned,  "  I've  come  to-day  on  an 
awfully  serious  errand,  and  I  want  you  to 
help  me." 

171 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"I  will  certainly,  if  I  can.     What  is  it  ?" 

"Do  you  really  believe  that  wanting 
anything  shows  that  one  is  going  to  get  it  ? 
You  said  something  like  that  the  other  day." 

"I  know  that  one  can  get  anything  one 
wants,"  Jane  answered  gravely ;  "of  course 
the  responsibility  of  some  kinds  of  wanting 
is  awfully  heavy.  But  the  law  doesn't 
alter." 

"  Can  you  explain  it  to  me  ?  " 

"Yes,  that's  it,"  said  Susan,  "you  tell 
us  how  to  manage.  I  want  to  get  something 
myself.  Or  I  mean  it's  that  I  want  some- 
thing I've  got  to  go  away  again.  Or  I 
guess  I'd  better  not  try  to  say  what  I 
mean." 

"But  you  won't  either  of  you  understand 
what  I  mean,  when  I  tell  you,"  said  Jane. 
"It's  just  as  I  said  before,  it  takes  a  lot  of 
study  to  get  your  brain-cells  to  where  they 
can  hold  an  idea  that's  really  new  to  you. 
Heads  are  like  empty  beehives,  —  you  have 
to  have  the  comb  before  you  can  have  the 
honey,  and  every  different  kind  of  study 
172 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

requires  a  different  kind  of  cells  just  for 
its  use  alone.  When  things  don't  interest 
us,  it's  because  the  brain-cells  in  regard  to 
that  subject  have  never  been  developed. 
That's  all.  That's  what  they  taught 
me." 

"I  think  it's  interesting,"  said  Susan. 
"I  always  thought  that  the  inside  of  my 
head  was  one  thing  that  I  didn't  need  to 
bother  about.  Seems  it  isn't,  after  all. 
Go  on,  you  Sunshine  Jane,  you." 

"I'm  like  your  aunt.  I  thought  that 
what  I  thought  was  the  last  thing  that 
mattered,"  said  Emily. 

"Everything  matters.  There's  nothing 
in  this  world  that  doesn't  matter,  because 
this  world  is  all  matter.  Anything  that 
doesn't  matter  must  be  spirit.  Don't  you 
see  that  when  you  say  and  really  mean  that 
a  thing  doesn't  matter,  you  mean  that  to 
you  it  isn't  material,  —  that  it's  no  part  of 
your  world  ?  " 

"Dear  me,  I  never  thought  of  that,"  said 
Susan,  "then  I  suppose  as  long  as  things  do 
173 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

matter  to  us,  it  means  we  just  hang  on 
to  them  and  hold  them  for  all  we're 
worth." 

"Yes." 

"But,  Jane,  thoughts  can't  matter  much  ? 
Or  we  can  forget  things." 

"There  isn't  anything  that  we  can  think 
of  at  all  that  we  are  ever  free  not  to  think 
about  again  —  that  is,  if  it's  a  good 
thought,"  said  Jane.  "If  a  thought  comes 
to  us  at  all,  it  comes  with  some  responsibility 
attached.  Either  we  are  meant  to  gain 
strength  by  dismissing  it,  if  it  seems  wrong, 
or  it's  our  duty  to  do  something  with  it,  if 
it's  right.  Most  people's  minds  are  all 
littered  up  with  thoughts  that  they  never 
either  use  or  put  away.  That's  what  makes 
them  so  stupid." 

"Goodness!"  exclaimed  Susan.  "Why, 
I  never  put  a  thought  away  in  my  life,  — 
not  as  I  know  of." 

"I've  never  thought  anything  at  all  about 
my  thoughts,"  said  Emily,  looking  rather 

startled. 

174 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

"Lots  of  people  don't,"  said  Jane ;  "they 
act  just  as  a  woman  would  in  making  a 
dress,  if  she  cut  it  out  a  bit  now  and  a  bit 
then  without  ever  laying  the  pattern  back 
even,  and  then  joined  it  anywhere  any  time, 
and  then  was  surprised  when  it  didn't  even 
prove  fit  to  wear  —  not  to  speak  of  looking 
all  witched." 

"Is  that  what  ails  some  lives?"  Emily 
asked,  looking  yet  more  startled. 

"It's  what  ails  almost  every  life.  It's 
what  makes  'I  didn't  think'  the  worst  con- 
fession in  the  world.  A  man  driving  a 
motor  with  his  eyes  shut  wouldn't  be  a  bit 
worse.  Life's  a  great  powerful  force  always 
rushing  on,  and  we  swing  into  the  tide  and 
never  bother  to  row  or  to  steer  or  to  see  that 
our  boat  is  water-tight." 

"You  make  me  feel  awful,  Jane.  As  if 
I'd  been  lazy,  staying  in  bed  so.  Arid  it 
was  the  only  way." 

"You  couldn't  do  any  better,  Auntie. 
At  least  you  weren't  doing  anything  wrong. 
Being  moored  in  a  little,  quiet  cove  is  better 
175 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

than  being  adrift  and  slamming  into  the 
boats  of  others." 

"I'd  really  have  had  to  think  more  about 
Matilda's  thoughts  than  my  own,  if  I'd 
known.  I'd  never  have  had  time  for  much 
thinking  as  I  pleased  in  the  way  you  say;  I 
was  always  jumping  up  and  flopping  down." 

"Jane,"  said  Emily  earnestly,  "then 
every  thought  matters  ?" 

1 '  Yes ,  or  matterates . ' '  Jane  smiled .  "If 
a  thought  doesn't  produce  good,  it'll  surely 
produce  bad,  —  it's  got  to  do  something. 
You  plant  your  thoughts  in  time  just  as  one 
plants  seed  in  the  ground,  and  any  further 
thoughts  of  the  same  kind  add  to  its  strength 
until  enough  strength  causes  an  appearance 
in  this  world." 

"You  really  believe  that  ?" 

"I  know  it.  I  know  it  so  well  that  I 
think  that  every  seed  that's  ever  fallen  was 
a  lesson  that  we  were  too  stupid  to  learn. 
Every  time  a  seed  fell  and  germinated,  God 
said  :  '  There,  that's  the  very  plainest  teach- 
ing on  earth.  Can't  you  see?'  Some- 
176 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

times  I  think  the  world's  all  a  book  for  us 
to  learn  heaven  in,  just  as  our  bodies  ex- 
plain our  souls  to  us." 

Susan  looked  at  Emily  in  an  awed  way. 
"I  guess  I  can  get  to  believe  it  all,"  she 
said,  in  a  low  tone;  "it  sounds  so  plain 
when  you  stop  and  think  of  it." 

"I'll  try  to  believe  it,"  said  Emily,  "but 
what  I  care  most  about  is  to  learn  how  to 
get  what  you  want  ?" 

Jane  considered.  "That  comes  ever  so 
far  along.  You  have  to  learn  to  get  what 
you  want  out  of  yourself  before  you  can  be 
upon  the  plane  where  you  naturally  get 
what  you  want,  because  you  are  too  far  on 
to  want  what  you  couldn't  get." 

Emily  didn't  understand  and  didn't  care. 
"Do  tell  me  how  it's  done,  anyway,"  she 
begged  eagerly. 

"I  don't  know  whether  what  I  say  will 
have  any  meaning  for  you,  but  I'll  say  it, 
anyway.  You'll  have  to  know  that  it's 
what  I  believe  and  live  by,  and  if  you're  to 
believe  it  and  live  by  it,  it  will  come  to  you 
177 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

quite  easily,  and  if  not  it's  because  it  isn't 
for  you  yet." 

"I  mean  to  believe,"  said  Emily  firmly. 
"I  want  something,  and  I'll  do  anything  to 
get  it." 

Jane  shook  her  head.  "That's  the  very 
hardest  road  to  come  by,"  she  said,  "unless 
it's  some  overcoming  in  yourself  that  you 
are  wanting.  You  see,  the  very  first  step 
has  to  be  the  conquering  of  ourselves,  not 
the  asking  for  material  things.  You  have 
to  open  a  channel  for  the  spirit,  and  then 
the  material  flows  through  afterwards,  as  a 
matter  of  course.  But  if  you've  gone  on  a 
good  ways,  you  don't  think  of  getting  things 
at  all ;  you  just  want  opportunities  to  grow, 
and  you  know  that  what  you  need  for  life 
will  keep  coming." 

"But  it  doesn't  with  lots  of  people,"  said 
Emily.  "Just  look  at  the  poor  —  and  the 
suffering." 

"They  aren't  living  according  to  this 
law,"  said  Jane.  "They're  living  on 
another  plane.  There  are  different  planes." 
178 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

"Don't  you  see,"  interposed  Susan,  "we 
asked  Mrs.  Croft  because  it  would  get  me 
on  a  plane  where,  when  Matilda  came  back, 
she  wouldn't  mind  so  many  changes." 

Emily  looked  inquiring.  "A  different 
plane  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Jane,  "you  can  lift  yourself 
straight  out  of  any  circle  of  conditions  by 
suddenly  altering  all  your  own  ideas  —  if 
you've  strength  to  do  so." 

"I'd  never  have  asked  Mrs.  Croft  alone 
by  myself,  you  know,"  said  Susan;  "no- 
body that  looked  at  things  the  way  other 
folks  do,  would.  But  Jane  looks  at  every- 
thing different  from  everybody  else.  She 
said  it  would  be  a  quick  way  of  being  dif- 
ferent. I  guess  she's  right." 

"I  never  heard  any  ideas  like  that." 

"But  they  aren't  new,"  said  Jane; 
"they're  older  than  the  hills.  God  made 
the  world  and  then  gave  every  man  domin- 
ion over  his  world.  We  all  have  the  whole 
of  our  world  to  rule.  This  way  of  looking 
at  things  is  new  to  you,  but  there  are 
179 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

thousands  and  thousands  of  people  proving 
it  true  every  day.  All  the  old  religions 
teach  it,  and  all  the  new  religions  bid  you 
live  it  or  they  won't  be  for  you.  They 
don't  kill  men  for  not  believing  now.  They 
just  let  them  live  and  suffer  and  go  blunder- 
ing on.  Why  "  —  Jane  grew  suddenly  pink 
with  fervor — "why,  everywhere  I  look,  al- 
most, I  see  just  lovely  chances  being  let  die, 
because  people  won't  fuss  to  tend  them. 
People  are  too  careless  and  too  thoughtless. 
The  truth  is  so  plain  that  the  very  word 
*  thoughtless '  fairly  screams  what's  the  mat- 
ter to  every  one,  but  hardly  any  one  bothers." 

"But  the  people  who  believe  as  you  do, 
—  do  they  all  get  everything  that  they 
want?"  asked  Emily. 

"Or  else  they  want  what  they  get,"  said 
Jane;  "it  comes  to  exactly  the  same  thing 
when  you  begin  to  understand.  The  beauty 
of  every  step  nearer  God  is  the  new  learning 
of  how  exactly  right  his  world  is  managed. 
All  my  old  puzzles  have  been  cleared  up, 
and  it's  so  wonderful.  Why,  I  used  to 
180 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

think  that  when  beautiful,  dear  little  chil- 
dren died  it  was  awful ;  but  now  I  know 
that  they  came  to  help  and  teach  others, 
and  that  when  they'd  spread  their  lesson  to 
those  others,  they  didn't  need  lessons  them- 
selves and  just  left  the  school  and  went 
back  into  the  beautiful  world  of  Better 
Things.  It  was  such  a  help  to  me  to  know 
why  splendid  men  and  women  who  were 
needed  went  so  suddenly  sometimes;  it's 
because  they're  needed  much  more  else- 
where and  respond  to  that  call  of  duty  at 
once.  I  don't  think  of  death  as  anything 
dreadful  now ;  I  think  of  it  as  a  door  that 
will  open  and  close  very  easily  for  me." 

"It's  one  door  that  Matilda  liked  to  keep 
setting  open,"  said  Susan,  —  "oh,  dear  me, 
Jane,  I'm  trying  to  grow  brain-cells  and  be 
a  credit  to  you,  and  I  can't  think  of  any- 
thing but  old  Mrs.  Croft.  Perhaps  she's 
woke  up." 

Jane  rose  and  went  into  the  house. 

"Do  you  think  you  can  take  it  all  in  ?" 
Emily  asked,  slowly  and  thoughtfully. 
181 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"I'm  doing  my  best,"  said  Susan,  "she's 
so  happy  and  so  good  I  think  she  must  know 
what  she's  talking  about." 

Jane  came  back.  "She's  still  sleeping," 
she  said;  "don't  you  worry,  dear  Auntie." 

"I  can't  help  it,"  said  Susan.  "I've 
dodged  about  for  so  long  and  played  things 
were  so  that  weren't  so,  that  I  guess  I'm 
pretty  much  out  of  tune,  and  it'll  be  a  little 
while  before  I  can  stop  worrying." 

"No,  you  aren't  out  of  tune,"  said  Jane, 
smiling  at  her  affectionately,  "or  if  you  are, 
just  say  you're  in  tune  and  you  will  be, 
right  off." 

"Do  you  believe  that  ?"  Emily  asked. 

"Why,  of  course.  I  know  it  absolutely 
for  myself,  and  I  know  that  it's  equally  true 
for  others  if  they  have  the  strength  to 
declare  it." 

"But  how?" 

"How  !     Why,  because  every  declaration 

of  good  is  spiritual,  and  proves  that  you 

are  one  with  your  soul  and  master  over  your 

body,  just  as  false  declarations  make  you 

182 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

one  with  your  body  and  take  away  all  power 
from  your  soul.  That's  how  mental  cures 
work.  When  anybody  says  *I  am  well,' 
she  declares  souls  can't  be  ill,  and  she  makes 
Truth  stronger  by  adding  her  strength  to  its 
strength.  But  when  a  man  says  *I  am  ill,' 
he  declares  a  lie,  for  souls  can't  be  ill,  and 
so  he's  claiming  not  to  be  spiritual,  but  just 
to  be  his  own  body.  It's  as  if  a  weaver 
stopped  weaving  and  said :  *  I've  broken 
several  threads,  and  I'm  going  to  be  im- 
perfect, and  7  won't  bring  any  price,  and 
Til  only  be  fit  to  cut  up  into  cleaning 
cloths.'  What  would  you  think  of  him  ? 
You'd  say:  'Why,  that's  only  an  hour's  work 
in  cloth  and  can  be  put  aside  without  further 
thought.  Just  go  right  on  and  with  your 
skill  and  judgment  make  the  next  piece 
perfect.  It  was  never  any  of  it  you;  it 
was  the  stuff  you  were  making.'  Bodies 
are  the  stuff  we  are  making." 

Emily  laid  down  her  work.     "Jane,  that's 
wonderful,"  she  said  solemnly.     "You  put 
that  so  that  I   really   got  hold  of  it.     I 
183 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

understand  exactly  what  you  mean,  and  if 
only  everybody  else  did !" 

"But  nobody  else  really  matters  to  you," 
said  Jane ;  "all  that  matters  to  you  is  that 
you  believe.  They  have  their  lives  —  you 
have  yours." 

Emily  was  looking  very  earnest.  "I'm 
going  to  try,"  she  said,  rising.  "  I'm  going 
to  try.  I  must  go  now,  but  I'm  going 
home  to  go  to  work  in  my  world." 

Jane  walked  with  her  to  the  gate.  "I'll 
help  you  all  I  can,"  she  said,  "I'm  so  glad 
you're  interested.  It  makes  life  so  splen- 
did." 

Emily  stopped  and  took  her  hand. 

"Jane,"  she  said,  "I  want  to  tell  you 
something.  I  want  to  marry  Mr.  Rath. 
I  think  he's  the  nicest  man  I  ever  saw. 
Do  you  really  —  really  —  believe  that  I 
can,  if  I  learn  to  think  as  you  do  ?" 

Jane  turned  white  beneath  the  other's 
eyes.  "Why,  but  don't  you  know  —  don't 
you  see  that  he's  in  love  ?  " 

"In  love!    With  you?" 
184 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

"With  me,  —  oh,  no.     With  Madeleine." 

/'Oh,  no,  he's  not  in  love  with  her,"  said 
Emily  decidedly;  "I  know  that.  I  know 
that  perfectly  well." 

"They  knew  one  another  before  they 
came  here,  you  know." 

"Why,  I  see  them  round  town  together 
all  hours,"  said  Emily;  "they're  like 
brother  and  sister,  they're  not  one  bit  in 
love.  I  thought  that  perhaps  it  was  you." 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  —  I  can't  marry.  I  never 
even  think  of  it." 

"Don't  you  use  any  of  your  ideas  with 
him?" 

"No,  indeed!  I  never  ask  anything  for 
myself  any  more.  I  just  ask  to  manifest 
God's  will,  —  to  help  in  any  of  His  work 
that  offers." 

"You're  awfully  good,  dear.  But,  hon- 
estly, do  you  think  that  I  could  surely  get 
him  if  I  tried?" 

"Why,  the  law  is  certain,  but"  —  Jane 
spoke  gently  —  "you're  so  far  from  under- 
standing it  yet.  I  only  told  you  a  little. 
185 


It  takes  ever  so  long  to  get  one's  mind  built 
to  where  it  will  grasp  an  ideal  and  hold  it 
without  wavering  once.  There's  such  a  lot 
I  didn't  tell  you;  I  couldn't  in  those  few 
minutes.  I  just  showed  you  the  picture, 
and  you  have  to  work  hard  till  you  learn 
how  to  paint  it.  You  see,  a  wish  is  like 
blowing  a  bubble,  and  if  you  add  wishes 
and  more  wishes,  you  gradually  change  the 
bubble  into  a  solid  mold,  which  is  a  real 
thing  of  spirit  but  empty  of  material ;  then, 
if  you  keep  it  solid  and  firm,  the  fact  of  it 
is  real  spiritually,  and  a  vacuum  as  to  matter 
makes  the  matter  just  hav&  to  fill  it,  and  it  is 
that  filling  into  the  mold  shaped  by  our 
thoughts  that  makes  what  we  see  and  live 
here  in  this  world.  The  world  is  all  matter 
circulating  in  thought-molds.  Anything 
that  you  carefully  and  steadily  and  con- 
sistently think  out  must  become  manifest. 
God  manifesting  His  will  means  that.  We 
are  His  will.  And  the  nearer  we  approxi- 
mate to  the  highest  in  Him,  the  more  we 
can  manifest  ourselves.  That's  why  very 
186 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

good  people  are  seldom  rich ;  they  want  to 
manifest  in  deeds  and  not  in  things.  That's 
why  they  never  keep  money  —  it  only  rep- 
resents to  them  the  need  of  others.  If  you 
really  and  truly  love  Mr.  Rath,  and  feel  it 
steadily  and  steadfastly  your  mission  to 
make  him  very  happy,  of  course  it  will  be, 
even  though  he  loved  some  one  else.  But  to 
want  a  man  who  loved  some  one  else 
wouldn't  be  possible  to  any  one  who  be- 
lieved in  this  teaching.  That's  where  it  is, 
you  see.  When  you  get  power,  you  never 
want  to  do  evil  with  it.  Power  from  God 
never  manifests  in  evil.  When  you  are 
where  you  can  get  whatever  you  want,  it 
simply  means  that  you  are  living  where  only 
good  can  come,  and  where  you  are  able  to 
see  it  coming." 

Emily  stood  perfectly  still,  looking  down- 
wards. Then  suddenly  she  burst  into 
violent  sobs.  "Oh,  I  feel  so  small,  so  mean 
—  so  wicked.  It  isn't  as  you  feel  a  bit  with 
me.  I  just  want  to  get  out  of  this  stupid 
town  —  and  he's  so  good-looking  ! " 
187 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Jane's  eyelids  fell. 

"I  feel  so  mean  and  petty,"  Emily  went 
on,  pressing  her  hands  over  her  face.  "I 
could  never  be  good  like  you.  I  can't 
understand.  I  just  want  to  be  married. 
I'm  so  tired  of  my  life." 

"Well,"  said  Jane,  with  steady  firmness, 
"why  don't  you  go  to  him  and  talk  it  all 
over  nicely  ?  As  you  would  with  Madeleine 
or  me.  Perhaps  that  would  be  best." 

"Do  you  really  think  so?"  said  Emily, 
lifting  her  eyes;  "do  you  believe  that  a 
girl  can  go  to  a  man  and  be  honest  with 
him,  just  as  a  man  can  with  a  woman  ?  " 

"I  couldn't,"  said  Jane,  "because  I 
wouldn't  want  to,  but  if  you  want  to  do  it, 
I  don't  see  why  you  can't." 

"But  why  wouldn't  you  ?" 

"Because  I  get  my  things  that  other  way, 
—  simply  by  asking  God  to  guide  me  to- 
wards His  will  and  guide  me  from  mis- 
take." 

"Did  you  do  that  about  asking  old  Mrs. 
Croft?" 

188 


EMILY'S  PROJECT 

"Certainly.  I  do  it  about  everything. 
I  live  by  that  rule  now.  I've  absolute  faith 
in  God's  guidance." 

Emily  looked  at  her.  "It  must  be  beau- 
tiful," she  said,  "and  you  really  think  that 
it  would  be  all  right  for  me  to  go  and  talk 
to  him,  do  you  ?" 

:'Yes,"  said  Jane  slowly.  "I  think  that 
it  would  be  best  all  round." 

"After  all,  this  is  the  woman's  century," 
said  Emily,  with  a  sudden  energy  quite  un- 
like her  previous  interest.  "I  don't  know 
why  I  shouldn't." 

"I  think  that  the  best  way  to  handle  all 
our  problems  is  to  let  them  flow  naturally 
to  their  finish,"  said  Jane;  "dammed  or 
choked  rivers  always  make  trouble." 

"  I  should  like  to  say  just  what  I  felt  to  a 
man  just  once,"  said  Emily  thoughtfully. 
"It  would  do  me  a  world  of  good." 

"Then  say  it,"  said  Jane.  "Only  are 
you  really  sure  that  he's  not  in  love  with 
Madeleine?" 

"Oh,  I'm  positive  as  to  that." 
189 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Then  go  ahead." 

They  parted,  and  Jane  returned  to  the 
house.  She  was  not  so  entirely  spiritual 
that  she  could  repress  a  very  human  kind  of 
smile  over  Emily's  project. 


190 


CHAPTER  XIII 

EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

A  S  Emily  turned  from  Mrs.  Ralston's 
-^-^-  gate,  she  felt  more  buoyant  happiness 
than  anything  in  life  had  ever  hitherto 
brought  her.  She  felt  licensed  on  high 
authority  to  revel  in  the  hitherto  forbidden. 
She  wanted  Lorenzo  Rath,  and  she  thought 
that  she  understood  how  to  get  him.  We 
may  follow  her  thought  and  then  we  will 
follow  where  it  led  her,  for  in  all  the  surge 
of  the  new  teaching  there  is  no  lesson  greater 
to  learn  than  this  which  Emily  had  failed 
to  grasp,  —  that  the  possession  of  tools  does 
not  make  one  a  carver;  that  all  things 
spiritual  must  be  learned  exactly  as  all 
things  material.  One  may  have  so  lived 
previously  that  the  learning  is  a  mere  show- 

191 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

ing  how,  but  without  experience  nothing, 
either  spiritual,  mental,  or  physical,  can  be 
efficaciously  handled.  When  people  de- 
clare that  something  is  not  true  because 
they  tried  it  and  it  failed  to  work,  remember 
Emily  Mead.  Emily  had  acquired  just 
one  idea  out  of  Jane's  exposition:  "That 
you  could  get  anything  that  you  want." 
It  is  the  idea  that  hosts  of  people  find  most 
attractive  in  this  world,  quite  irrespective 
of  its  correlative  esotericism,  —  that  the 
soul  growing  towards  infinite  power  learns 
every  upward  step  by  resolutely  liking  what 
it  gets.  No  man  can  climb  a  stair  by  hack- 
ing down  every  step  passed ;  he  climbs  by 
being  so  firm  upon  each  step  that  he  can 
poise  his  whole  weight  thereon  as  he  mounts. 
It  is  part  of  the  supremely  beautiful  logic 
of  the  highest  teaching  that  the  same  effort 
which  Jesus  made  —  every  great  teacher 
has  made  —  is  sure  to  make,  too.  We 
must  see  the  Divine  embodied  in  the 
Present  and  the  Weak  and  the  Humble, 
before  in  our  own  spirit  we  may  deal,  for 
192 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

the  good  of  all,  with  the  Future  and 
Strength  and  Power.  When  one  seizes 
upon  anything  God-given  as  a  means  of  ac- 
quiring earth -gifts,  one  has  but  seized  the 
empty  air;  the  idea  and  then  ideal  have 
never  been  in  the  possession  of  such  an  one. 
There  is  nothing  shut  away  from  those  who 
really  make  God's  teaching  a  vital  part  of 
themselves,  but  such  men  and  women  are 
no  longer  keen  to  selfishly  possess,  and  the 
good  which  they  reach  out  for  flows  easily 
in  for  their  further  distribution ;  in  other 
words,  they  become  what  we  were  all  de- 
signed to  be,  —  the  outward  manifestations 
of  God's  purpose,  the  living  breathing, 
blessed  servants  of  His  will. 

How  far  this  interpretation  lay  from  poor 
Emily's  comprehension  the  reader  knows. 

She  hurried  along,  her  whole  being  bound- 
ing with  joy  over  the  simplicity  of  the  new 
lesson.  It  all  seemed  almost  too  story- 
book-like to  be  happening  in  her  stupid, 
commonplace  life.  She  had  spent  so  many 
long  hours  in  thinking  over  how  things 
193 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

would  never  happen  for  her,  that  she  had 
entirely  lost  faith  in  their  ever  changing 
their  ways  and  now,  all  of  a  sudden,  here 
was  a  complete  reversal.  Bonds  were 
turned  into  wings ;  that  unattainable  being, 
a  live  man,  was  not  only  at  hand,  but  avail- 
able; she  felt  herself  bidden  not  to  doubt 
her  power;  she  judged  herself  advised  to 
say  frankly  all  the  things  that  girls  may 
never  say.  This  was  the  day  of  feminine 
freedom.  To  wish  was  to  have.  What 
one  wanted  was  the  thing  that  was  best  for 
one.  Emily  —  with  all  of  Jane's  ideas 
swimming  upside  down  in  her  head  —  felt 
superbly  joyous  and  confident.  After  all, 
being  alive  was  a  pretty  good  thing. 

She  turned  a  corner  into  the  lane  that  led 
in  a  roundabout  way  to  her  mother's  back 
garden  gate  and  walked  swiftly.  She  was 
a  fine,  straight  girl  with  a  lithe,  springy  walk. 
Perhaps  Lorenzo  Rath  could  not  have  done 
better,  from  most  standpoints,  than  to 
marry  such  an  one.  Many  men  do  worse. 
And  there  was  old  Mr.  Cattermole's  money, 
194 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

too.  Some  of  these  views  float  in  all  human 
atmosphere  to-day  —  float  there  securely, 
because  the  world  is  a  practical  world,  and 
an  automobile  is  obvious,  while  love  and 
trust  are  absolutely  unknown  to  many. 
"Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon  too," 
and  Mammon  is  very  plain  and  practical, 
rolling  on  rubber  tires  to  the  best  restau- 
rant. Emily  could  not  have  reduced  her 
roseate  visions  to  any  such  sordid  reasoning, 
but  love  to  her  meant  leaving  town  and 
having  a  good-looking  and  lively  young  man 
to  take  her  about.  This  was  not  really 
love,  any  more  than  the  means  by  which 
she  expected  to  acquire  it  were  the  religion 
taught  by  Jane.  We  hear  much  of  the 
downfall  of  love  and  the  downfall  of  religion 
in  these  days,  but  no  one  even  stops  to 
realize  that  religion  and  love  cannot  possibly 
even  shake  on  their  thrones.  Their  counter- 
feits may  crumble  and  tumble,  but  real 
truth  can  never  fail.  It  was  the  counter- 
feits at  which  Emily,  like  many  another, 
grasped  eagerly. 

195 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

So  now  she  was  tripping  lightly  along  and, 
turning  the  twist  by  the  great  chestnut  tree, 
her  heart  gave  a  sudden  flop,  for  just  ahead 
she  saw  her  quarry.  He  was  propped 
against  the  fence,  using  his  knees  for  an 
easel,  while  he  made  a  rapid  water-color 
sketch.  He  was  good  at  those  little  im- 
pressions of  an  artistic  bit,  that  nearly 
always  show  forth  in  youth  a  great  artist 
struggling  to  grow. 

Emily  started,  for  she  was  very  close  to 
him  before  she  saw  him,  and  her  rampant 
thoughts  led  her  to  blush,  apologize,  and 
stammer  precisely  as  she  might  have  done, 
had  her  sex  never  advanced  at  all  but  merely 
remained  the  dominant  note  that  they  have 
always  been. 

"Why,  Mr.  Rath,"  and  then  she  paused. 

Lorenzo  —  who  wanted  to  finish  his 
sketch  —  nodded  pleasantly  without  look- 
ing up.  "Grand  day  for  walking,"  he  said, 
as  a  supremely  polite  hint,  and  continued  to 
work  rapidly. 

Emily  went  close  beside  him  and  looked 
196 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

downward  upon  the  canvas.  "  How  pretty  ! 
I  wish  I  knew  more  about  pictures.  What 
is  that  brown  hill  ?  You  can't  see  a  hill 
from  here." 

"That's  a  cow,"  said  Lorenzo,  painting 
very  fast  indeed,  "but  don't  ask  me  to 
explain  things,  for  I  can't  work  and  talk  at 
the  same  time." 

Emily  sank  down  beside  him  with  a 
pleasant  sense  of  proprietorship  now  that 
she  could  get  him  by  will  power  alone. 
"I've  just  come  from  Mrs.  Ralston's. 
They're  in  such  distress  over  old  Mrs. 
Croft." 

"Is  she  worse?"  The  artist  forgot  to 
paint  all  of  a  sudden,  and  turned  quickly 
towards  her. 

"Oh,  no,  —  she  was  asleep  when  I  left. 
Jane  didn't  seem  a  bit  troubled,  but  Mrs. 
Ralston  is  almost  wild  over  not  knowing 
what  to  say  to  her  sister  when  she  comes 
back  and  finds  that  awful  old  woman  there. 
It's  a  terrible  situation.  Everybody  knows 
that  young  Mrs.  Croft  has  run  away.  She 

197 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

just  hated  to  stay  and  now  she's  gone. 
Isn't  it  awful?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  said  Lorenzo, 
suddenly  regaining  his  deep  interest  in  work, 
"I  have  a  distinct  feeling  that  Miss  Grey 
will  bring  things  out  all  right  for  most 
people  always.  It's  her  way." 

:<Yes,  she's  a  dear  girl,"  said  Emily,  and 
paused  to  have  time  to  consider  things  a 
little  while,  feeling  that  the  conversation 
should  be  continued  by  the  man.  The  man 
didn't  continue  the  conversation,  however, 
merely  wielding  his  brush  and  looking  com- 
pletely absorbed. 

Then  she  remembered  her  mission.  "  Mr. 
Rath,  do  you  believe  in  frankness  always  ?" 

"I  wish  that  I  did." 

"But  don't  you?" 

"Civilization  wouldn't  stand  for  it." 

"Perhaps  not  every  one  could  bear  it, 
but  some  could.  I  could,  I'm  sure." 

"Are  you  so  sure  ?" 

"Yes,  I  am  sure.  I  was  talking  with 
Jane  alone  just  at  the  gate  before  I  left,  and 
198 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

she    believes    that    frankness    is   best    al- 
ways." 

"It's  easiest,  certainly."  Lorenzo  raised 
his  eyebrows  a  little  impatiently,  but  she 
paid  no  attention. 

"Do  you  think  so?" 

"Why,  of  course.  When  one  wants  to  be 
let  alone  and  blurts  out,  'Let  me  alone,' 
why,  one  gets  let  alone." 

"Oh;,  but  that  would  be  impolite,"  said 
Emily,  feeling  that  for  an  artist  he  used  very 
crude  metaphor.  "Of  course,  Jane  and  I 
were  not  talking  about  that  kind  of  people, 
or  that  kind  of  ways.  We  were  talking  of 
people  like  you  and  me  —  nice  people,  you 
know.  Jane  advised  me  to  be  quite  frank 
with  you." 

Lorenzo  opened  his  eyes  widely.  "About 
what,  please  ?" 

"Oh,  about  all  things.  You  see  I  meet  so 
few  men,  and  men  are  so  interesting,  and  I 
enjoy  talking  with  them.  I've  read  a  good 
deal,  and  I  don't  care  for  the  life  in  this 
place.  I  want  to  leave  it  dreadfully." 
199 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  artist.  "  I  quite  agree 
with  you  there." 

:<You  see,  Jane  has  been  teaching  me  to 
understand  life,  and  I  am  getting  the  feel- 
ing that  I  am  meant  for  something  else  than 
just  helping  my  mother,  wandering  about 
town,  and  going  to  church.  I'm  very  tired 
and  restless." 

Lorenzo  painted  fast. 

"Mr.  Rath,  if  you  —  a  man  —  felt  as  I 
do,  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"Get  out." 

"But  where?" 

"  Everybody  can  find  a  way,  if  they  really 
want  to." 

"It  isn't  as  if  I  had  talent,  you  see." 

"A  good  many  people  haven't  talent 
and  yet  do  very  well,  indeed." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  be  a  shop-girl  or 
anything  like  that." 

"Naturally  not." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"I'm  very  much  interested  in  the  prog- 
ress women  are  making,"  said  Emily.  "I 
200 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

read  all  I  can  get  hold  of  about  it.     Don't 
you  think  it  remarkable  ?  " 

"I  don't  think  much  about  it,  and  I  skip 
everything  on  the  subject." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Rath!" 

"I'm  a  jealous  brute.  I  don't  like  to 
realize  that  a  woman  can  do  everything 
that  is  a  man's  work,  even  to  the  verge  of 
driving  him  to  starvation,  while  he  can't 
do  any  of  her  work  under  any  circum- 
stances." 

"He  could  wash  and  cook  and  sweep." 

"Oh,  he's  invented  machines  to  save  her 
that." 

"  I  see  you've  no  sympathy  with  the  ad- 
vanced woman." 

"Yes,  I  have.  I'm  very  sorry  for  her. 
A  nice  mess  the  next  generation  will  be." 

"Oh,  dear." 

"My  one  comfort  is  that  boys  take  after 
their  mothers,  and  I'm  looking  to  see  a 
future  generation  of  men  so  strong-minded 
that  they  smash  ladies  back  to  where  they 
belong  —  in  the  rear  with  the  tents." 
201 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Goodness,  Mr.  Rath,  then  you  don't 
like  any  of  the  ways  things  are  going  ?" 

"Of  course  I  don't.  Once  upon  a  time 
a  busy  man's  time  was  sacred ;  now  any 
woman  who  feels  like  taking  it,  appropriates 
it  mercilessly." 

"I  should  lock  the  door,  if  I  felt  that  way. 
But  now  really,  don't  you  think  that  we 
might  speak  quite  openly  and  frankly?" 

Lorenzo  began  to  put  up  his  paints. 

"I  want  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  a  lot  of 
things." 

"Well?" 

"You're  the  first  man  that  I've  ever 
known  that  I  felt  could  understand  what  I 
meant,  and  I  do  want  to  know  the  man's 
side  of  things." 

"A  man  hasn't  got  any  side  nowadays. 
He's  not  allowed  one." 

Emily  looked  a  little  surprised.  :'You 
speak  bitterly." 

"I   think   I've   a   right.     Men   are   still 
observing  the  rules  of  the  game  and  suffer- 
ing bitter  consequences." 
202 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"Women  with  homes  have  gone  into  the 
world  to  earn  some  extra  pocket  money 
until  they've  knocked  the  bottom  out  of 
all  wage  systems,  and  you  never  can  make 
the  wildest  among  them  see  that  women 
can't  expect  men's  pay  unless  they  do  men's 
work.  A  man's  work  is  only  half  of  it  in 
business,  the  other  half  is  supporting  a 
family.  Women  want  equal  pay  and  to 
spend  the  result  as  they  please.  The 
man's  wages  go  usually  on  bread  and  the 
woman's  on  bonnets,  to  speak  broadly. 
He  goes  to  his  own  home  at  night  and  has 
every  single  bill  for  four  to  ten  people. 
She  goes  to  somebody  else's  house  and  has 
only  her  own  needs  to  face,  with  perhaps 
some  contribution  towards  those  off  some- 
where." 

"Dear  me,"  said  Emily,  "I  never  thought 
of  that." 

"No,"  said  Lorenzo,  snapping  the  lid 
of  his  color  box  shut,  "women  don't  think 
of  that.  But  men  do." 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"But  surely  there  are  loads  and  loads  of 
women  who  do  support  families." 

"Yes,  and  who  are  dragged  down  by  the 
injustice  of  what  economists  call  'The  Law 
of  Supplemented  Earnings  '  !" 

Emily  felt  that  the  experience  of  convers- 
ing frankly  with  a  live  man  was  not  exactly 
what  she  had  anticipated.  It  certainly 
was  in  no  way  romantic.  She  felt  baffled 
and  a  good  deal  chilled.  The  conversation 
had  taken  a  horrid  twist  away  from  what 
she  had  intended. 

"You  think  that  women  have  no  right 
to  go  out  in  the  world  then?"  she  said. 
:<You  don't  sympathize  with  the  modern 
trend?" 

"I  sympathize  with  nature  and  human 
nature,"  said  Lorenzo,  "but  not  with 
civilization."  He  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Rath!"  she  looked  upward, 
expecting  to  be  assisted  to  rise. 

"I  believe  in  life,  lived  by  live  things  in 
the  way  God  meant.  I  loathe  this  modern 
institution  limping  along  with  its  burden  of 
204 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

carefully  fed  and  tended  idiots  and  invalids 
and  babies,  better  dead.  I  wish  that  I 
were  a  Zulu." 

"Good  Heavens!" 

"Come,"  said  the  man,  picking  up  his 
load,  "we  can  go  now." 

"Had  you  finished  ?"  She  scrambled  to 
her  feet. 

"I'd  done  all  that  I  could  under  the 
circumstances." 

"I  suppose  the  light  changes  so  fast  at 
this  time.  .  .  ."  Emily  was  quite  unsus- 
picious and  content.  The  intuition  that 
used  to  reign  supreme  in  women  was  es- 
pecially lacking  in  her.  She  had  not  the 
least  idea  of  what  her  presence  meant  to  the 
unhappy  artist. 

"Come,  come,"  he  repeated  impatiently. 

They  walked  away  then  through  the 
pretty  winding  lane. 

"It  seems  to  me  so  awful  that  we  are  all 
so    hopeless,"    Emily    went   on    presently. 
"We  are  all  put  here  and  often  see  just  what 
should  be  done  and  can't  do  it  possibly." 
205 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"I  do  exactly  what  I  choose,"  said 
Lorenzo,  —  then  he  added:  "as  a  usual 
thing." 

"  You  must  be  very  happy."  She  paused. 
"I  suppose  that  you  have  plenty  of  money 
to  live  as  you  please." 

"I'm  fortunate  enough  not  to  have  any." 

"Goodness  !"  the  exclamation  was  sin- 
cere. The  shock  to  Emily  was  dreadful. 
"Why  do  you  call  that  fortunate?"  she 
asked,  after  a  little  hasty  agony  of  down- 
fall as  to  rich  and  generous  travel,  spaced 
off  by  going  to  the  theater. 

"Because  it  makes  me  know  that  I  shall 
do  something  in  the  world.  A  very  little 
money  is  enough  to  swamp  a  man  nowadays, 
when  the  idea  of  later  being  supported  by  a 
woman  is  always  a  possibility.  Oh,"  said 
Lorenzo,  with  sudden  irritation,  "if  there 
weren't  so  many  perfectly  splendid  women 
and  girls  in  the  world,  I'd  go  off  and  become 
a  Trappist.  Everything's  being  knocked 
into  a  cocked  hat.  I've  had  girls  practically 
make  love  to  me.  Disgusting." 
206 


EMILY  IS  HERSELF  FREELY 

Emily  felt  her  heart  hammer  hard. 
"  You're  very  old-fashioned  in  your  views," 
she  said,  a  little  faintly. 

They  came  out  by  her  mother's  back 
gate  as  she  spoke. 

"Yes,  I  am,"  said  Lorenzo,  "I  admit  it." 

Mrs.  Mead  came  running  out  of  the  back 
door.  "Oh,  Emily,"  she  cried,  "old  Mrs. 
Croft  is  dead.  Jane  sent  for  the  doctor 
—  she  sent  a  boy  running  —  but  she's 
dead.  Wherever  have  you  been  for  so 
long?" 


207 


CHAPTER  XIV 

JANE'S  CONVERTS 

feelings  which  revolved  around 
the  dead  body  of  old  Mrs.  Croft  can 
be  better  imagined  than  described ;  every- 
body had  wondered  as  to  every  contingency 
except  this.  In  the  midst  of  the  confusion 
Jane  moved  quietly,  a  little  white  and  with 
lips  truly  saddened.  "And  I  meant  to  do 
such  a  lot  for  her,  —  I  meant  to  help  her  so 
much,"  she  murmured  from  time  to  time. 

The  doctor,  a  ponderous  gentleman  of 
great  weight  in  all  ways,  was  very  grave. 
The  doctor  said  that  he  had  warned  the 
daughter  of  such  a  possible  ending  twenty 
years  before.  "Heart  failure  was  always 
imminent,"  he  declared  severely,  looking 
upon  Jane,  Susan,  and  Mrs.  Cowmull,  who 
208 


JANE'S  CONVERTS 

had  driven  out  with  him  and  thus  become 
instantly  a  privileged  person.  "She  never 
ought  to  have  been  left  alone  a  minute  dur- 
ing these  last  forty  years.  Even  if  she  had 
lived  to  be  a  hundred,  the  danger  was  always 
there.  Such  neglect  is  awful."  He  stopped 
and  shook  his  head  vigorously.  "Awful," 
he  declared  again  with  emphasis,  "awful !" 

"I  didn't  know  that  she  had  heart 
disease,"  said  Jane. 

"No  blame  attaches  to  you,"  said  the 
doctor,  veering  suddenly  about  as  to  the 
point  in  discussion;  "nobody  can  blame 
you.  I  shall  exonerate  you  completely. 
Of  course,  if  you  were  not  aware  of  the  state 
of  the  case,  you  couldn't  be  expected  to  con- 
sider its  vital  necessities." 

"Oh,  and  it  was  so  vital,"  sobbed  Mrs. 
Cowmull.  "Dear,  sweet,  old  Mrs.  Croft. 
Our  sunbeam.  And  to  go  off  like  that. 
What  good  is  life  when  people  can  die  any 
minute.  Oh  !  Oh  !" 

There  was  a  brief  pause  for  silent  sorrow. 

"I  never  looked  for  her  to  die,"  Mrs. 
209 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Cowmull  went  on,  shaking  her  head.  "I 
always  told  Emily  she'd  outlive  even 
Brother  Cattermole.  So  many  people  will, 
you  know.  Dear,  kind,  loving  friend ! 
And  now  to  think  she's  gone.  I  can't  make 
it  seem  true.  She's  been  alive  so  long. 
Seems  only  yesterday  that  I  was  up  to  see 
Katie  about  making  a  pie  for  the  social, 
and  our  dear,  sweet  friend  was  singing  her 
favorite  song,  Captain  Jinks  of  the  Horse 
Marines,  all  the  time.  What  spirits  she 
did  have  everywhere,  except  in  her  legs." 

Susan  sat  perfectly  quiet.  The  doctor 
took  Jane's  arm  and  led  her  into  the  hall, 
there  to  speak  of  the  first  few  necessary 
steps  to  be  taken.  Then  he  returned  to  the 
sitting-room,  gathered  up  Mrs.  Cowmull 
and  departed,  saying  that  he  would  send 
"some  practical  person  at  once."  Mrs. 
Cowmull,  who  was  widely  known  as  having 
practical  designs  on  him,  did  not  resent  the 
implied  slur  at  her  own  abilities  at  all. 

After  they  were  gone,  there  was  a  slight 
further  pause,  and  then  Susan  rose  slowly 
210 


JANE'S  CONVERTS 

and  went  and  laid  her  hands  upon  her 
niece's  shoulders.  "Oh,  Jane,  that  reli- 
gion of  yours  is  a  wonderful  thing.  I'm 
converted." 

Jane  started.     "Converted,  Auntie?" 

"Yes.  You  were  sure  that  it  would  come 
out  all  right  and  now  see." 

Then  a  little  white  smile  had  to  cross  the 
young  girl's  face.  "The  poor  old  woman," 
she  said  gently,  "to  think  of  her  lying  there 
all  alone  all  that  day.  I  thought  that  she 
was  sleeping  so  quietly." 

"Well,  she  was,"  said  Susan. 

"Yes,  of  course  she  was.  It's  just  our 
little  petty  way  of  thinking  that  masks  all 
of  what  is  truly  sacred  and  splendid  behind 
a  veil  of  wrong  thinking.  Of  course  she 
was  sleeping  quietly." 

"It'll  be  sort  of  awful  if  they  can't  find 
Katie,  though,"  Susan  said  next;  "she  left 
no  address,  and  I  think  it's  almost  silly  to 
try  to  hunt  her  up.  I'm  only  too  pleased 
to  pay  for  the  funeral,  I'm  sure,  and  there 
won't  be  any  real  reason  for  her  returning." 
211 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"No,"  said  Jane  thoughtfully. 

"And  I  really  can  look  forward  to 
Matilda's  coming  back  now,"  pursued 
Susan.  "I  shan't  mind  a  bit.  Old  Mrs. 
Croft  has  done  that  much  good,  anyway,  — 
she's  made  me  feel  that  Matilda's  coming 
back  is  just  nothing  at  all.  You  see  you 
knew  that  everything  was  coming  out  all 
right,  but  I'd  never  had  any  experience 
with  that  kind  of  doings  up  till  now,  and 
it  was  all  new  to  me.  I  was  only  thinking 
of  when  you  and  me  would  have  to  face 
Matilda.  Matilda  would  have  looked 
pretty  queer  if  she'd  come  home  to  old  Mrs. 
Croft  to  tend,  and  me  up  and  lively." 

Jane  didn't  seem  to  hear.  "I  never  once 
thought  of  her  dying,"  she  said  again  ;  "oh, 
dear,  she  had  so  much  to  learn.  I  expected 
to  do  her  such  a  lot  of  good." 

"I  wouldn't  complain,  Jane.  I  wouldn't 
find  fault  with  a  thing.  Goodness,  think 
if  she'd  begun  singing  Captain  Jinks  last 
night.  I've  heard  that  sometimes  she'd 
sing  it  six  hours  at  a  stretch/' 
212 


JANE'S  CONVERTS 

Jane  shook  her  head.  "Who  is  to  go 
down  and  pack  up  that  house?"  she 
wondered. 

"Oh,  the  house  can  be  rented  furnished. 
It's  a  nice  home  for  anybody,"  said  Susan, 
"and  the  rent '11  buy  her  a  lovely  monu- 
ment." 

The  funeral  was  fixed  for  the  third  day, 
and  some  effort  made  to  trace  the  daughter- 
in-law.  But  that  lady  evidently  didn't 
care  to  be  found. 

"It's  hardly  any  use  going  to  a  great  deal 
of  expense  to  hunt  her  up,"  Lorenzo  said 
to  Jane,  "because  the  house  is  all  there  is, 
and  a  thorough  search  with  detectives  would 
just  about  eat  it  up  alive." 

He  probably  was  not  wholly  disinterested 
in  his  outlook,  for  the  next  bit  of  news  that 
shook  the  community  was  that  Lorenzo 
Rath  had  taken  Mrs.  Croft's  house  and 
moved  in  !  Naturally  Mrs.  Cowmull  was 
far  from  pleased.  "Of  course  it  means 
he's  going  to  get  married,"  she  said  to  Miss 
Vane,  "but  what  folly  to  take  a  house  so 
213 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

soon.  Who's  to  cook  for  him  ?  And  who's 
he  going  to  marry  ?  Not  Emily,  I  know. 
She  wouldn't  have  him." 

Miss  Vane  didn't  know  and  didn't  care. 
"Not  my  Madeleine,"  she  said  promptly, 
for  her  part;  "she  gets  a  letter  every  day. 
She'll  marry  that  man." 

"Then  it's  Jane  Grey,"  said  Mrs.  Cow- 
mull.  The  town  was  greatly  exercised, 
and  not  as  positive  as  to  Emily's  state  of 
mind  as  her  aunt. 

"It'll  be  one  of  those  two,"  Mrs.  Ball  said 
to  Miss  Crining  (both  very  superior  women 
and  much  given  to  meeting  at  the  grocery 
store).  "They're  both  after  him.  Emily 
chases  him  wherever  he's  posing  woods 
and  cows,  and  the  little  appetite  that  Mrs. 
Cowmull  says  he  has,  after  going  to  Mrs. 
Ralston's,  shows  what  they're  thinking  of." 

Miss  Crining  shook  her  head.  "Once 
on  a  time  girls  were  so  sweet  and  womanly," 
she  said. 

"My,"  said  Mrs.  Ball,  "I  remember 
when  my  husband  asked  me.  I  almost 


JANE'S   CONVERTS 

fell  flat.  I'd  never  so  much  as  thought  of 
him.  I  was  engaged  to  a  boy  named 
Richie  Kendall,  and  Mr.  Ball  was  bald,  and 
had  all  those  children  older  than  I  was. 
There  was  some  romance  about  life  then." 

"And  me,"  said  Miss  Crining,  with  a 
gentle  sigh,  "I  never  told  a  soul  I  was  in 
love  till  months  after  he  was  drowned.  I 
didn't  know  I  was  in  love  myself.  Girls 
used  to  be  like  that,  modest,  timid." 

"Mr.  Rath's  very  severe  on  girls  nowa- 
days, Mrs.  Cowmull  says,"  said  Mrs.  Ball ; 
"but  he's  blind  like  all  men  are  and  will  get 
hooked  when  he  ain't  looking,  like  they  all 
do." 

But  Lorenzo  Rath  didn't  care  about  any 
of  the  gossip ;  he  was  so  happy  over  his 
home.  "I'll  have  a  woman  come  and  cook 
occasionally,"  he  explained  blithely  to  Jane 
and  Susan,  "and  I'll  get  all  my  illustrating 
off  my  hands  in  short  order." 

"Do  you  illustrate?"  Jane  asked. 

"Yes,  that's  my  bread-and-butter  job." 

"It'll  be  nice  to  have  you  in  the  neigh  - 
215 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

borhood,"  said  Susan  placidly;  "to  think 
how  it's  all  come  about,  too.  I'm  in  heaven, 
no  matter  what  I'm  doing.  I  just  sit  about 
and  pray  to  understand  more  of  Jane's 
religion.  I'm  gasping  it  down  in  big  swal- 
lows. I  think  it's  so  beautiful  how  she 
does  right,  without  having  to  take  the 
consequences." 

Jane  laughed  a  little  at  that  and  went  out 
to  get  supper. 

"She's  a  nice  girl,"  Lorenzo  said,  looking 
after  her;  "when  she  leaves  here,  what 
shall  we  do  ?" 

"Oh,  heavens,  I  don't  know,"  said 
Susan.  "I  try  never  to  think  of  it." 

"And  what  is  she  going  to  do  ?" 

"Oh,  she's  going  back  to  her  nursing, 
and  I  want  to  cry  when  I  think  that  other 
people  will  have  her  around  and  I  shan't. 
I'll  be  here  alone  with  Matilda.  Not  but 
what  I'm  a  good  deal  more  reconciled  than 
I  was,  when  I  thought  I'd  be  alone  with 
Matilda  and  old  Mrs.  Croft,  too." 

:'Yes,  that  would  have  been  bad,"  said 
216 


JANE'S  CONVERTS 

Lorenzo  soberly.  "Well,  I  must  be  running 
along.  I've  got  a  lot  of  work  to  do  and  a 
lot  of  thinking,  too." 

Susan  contemplated  him  earnestly. 
"Well,"  she  said,  with  fervor,  "when  Jane 
goes,  I'll  still  have  you,  anyway." 

Lorenzo,  who  had  just  risen,  stopped 
short  at  that.  "Do  you  know  an  idea  that 
I'm  just  beginning  to  hold?"  he  asked 
suddenly. 

"No;  how  should  I?" 

"It's  this.  Why  shouldn't  you  and  I  try 
working  Jane's  Rule  of  Life  a  little  ?  I'm 
dreadfully  impressed  with  a  lot  she  says. 
Suppose  you  and  I  pulled  together  and  made 
up  our  minds  that  she  was  going  to  stay  here 
in  some  perfectly  right  and  pleasant  and 
proper  way.  How,  then  ?  Don't  you  be- 
lieve maybe  we  could  manage  it  ?  " 

Susan  stared.  "But  there  couldn't  be 
any  perfectly  right,  pleasant,  proper  way," 
she  said  sadly,  "because  she  wants  to  go." 

"I'd  like  to  try." 

The  aunt  shook  her  head,  sighing  heavily. 
217 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"It's  no  use.  There  isn't  a  way.  Nothing 
could  keep  her.  You  see,  she's  got  some 
family  debts  to  pay,  and  she  can't  rest  till 
she's  paid  'em.  I've  begged  and  prayed 
her  to  stay ;  I've  told  her  that  her  own  flesh 
and  blood  has  first  claim,  but  she  won't 
hear  to  any  kind  of  sense." 

"I  wish  that  we  might  try,"  Lorenzo 
insisted.  "I've  listened  to  her  till  I  just 
about  believe  she  really  does  know  what 
she's  talking  about.  It  seems  as  if  it's  all 
so  logical  and  after  all,  it's  the  way  God 
made  the  world,  surely." 

"Yes,  I  know,  but  you  and  I  ain't  equal 
to  making  worlds  and  won't  be  yet  awhile." 

"I  don't  care,"  said  the  young  man,  turn- 
ing towards  the  door,  "I'm  going  at  it 
alone,  then.  I  don't  believe  that  any  one 
in  the  world  needs  her  as  much  as  I  do,  and 
I'm  going  to  have  her,  and  that  by  her  own 
methods,  too." 

Susan's  mouth  opened  in  widest  amaze- 
ment. "Mercy  on  us,  you  ain't  proposing 
to  her  by  way  of  me,  are  you  ?  You  don't 
218 


JANE'S  CONVERTS 

mean  that  you  really  do  want  to  marry  her, 
do  you  ?" 

"No,  I  don't  mean  that  I  want  to  marry 
her.  I  mean  that  I'm  going  to  marry  her." 

"Oh!  Oh!"  the  aunt  cried  faintly. 
"Oh,  goodness  me  !  But  I  don't  know  why 
I'm  surprised,  for  I  said  you  was  in  love  with 
her  right  from  the  start.  I  couldn't  see 
how  you  could  help  but  be." 

"Of  course  I  couldn't  help  but  be.  Who 
could  ?  She's  one  of  the  few  real  girls  that 
are  left  in  the  world  these  days.  The 
regular  girls  with  lectures  and  diplomas 
and  stiff  collars  have  spoiled  the  sweetest 
things  God  ever  made.  Men  don't  thank 
Heaven  for  any  of  these  late  innovations 
wrought  in  womankind." 

"Oh,  I  know,"  said  Susan ;  "my  husband 
was  old-fashioned,  too.  I" — she  stopped 
short,  because  just  then  the  door  opened, 
and  Jane  came  in. 


219 


CHAPTER  XV 

REAL   CONVERSATION 

TT>OTH  Susan  and  lover  jumped  rather 
-•-*  guiltily,  but  Jane  didn't  notice.  Or 
if  she  did  notice,  it  did  not  impress  her  as 
anything  worthy  consideration.  Among 
the  little  weeds  in  the  rose-garden  of  life, 
did  you  ever  think  of  what  a  common  one  is 
that  bother  over  how  people  act  when  you 
"  come  in  suddenly  "  ?  It  is  one  of  the  petty 
tortures  of  everyday  existence.  "They 
stopped  talking  the  instant  they  saw  me  !" 
"They  both  turned  red,  when  I  opened  the 
door  !"  Well,  what  if  they  did?  Is  it  a 
happening  of  the  slightest  moment  ?  Un- 
less one  is  guilty  and  in  dread  of  discovery, 
what  can  it  matter  who  chatters  or  of  what  ? 
220 


REAL  CONVERSATION 

Stop  and  realize  the  real,  separate,  distinct 
meaning  of  the  phrase  "He  was  above  sus- 
picion," and  see  how  it  applies  equally  to 
being  safe  from  the  evil  thoughts  of  others 
as  well  as  being  safe  from  the  holding  of  evil 
thoughts  towards  others.  If  people  change 
color  at  your  approach  and  it  makes  you  un- 
comfortable, you  are  not  above  suspicion 
either  of  or  from  others.  Then  look  to  it 
well  that  henceforth  you  manage  to  root 
out  the  double  evil.  There  are  a  whole  lot 
of  very  uncomfortable  family  happenings 
founded  on  the  absolutely  natural  crossings 
of  family  intercourse,  and  the  only  possible 
way  to  go  smoothly  through  such  rapids  is 
—  as  the  Irishman  said  —  to  pick  up  your 
canoe  and  port  around  them.  Don't  go 
down  to  the  level  of  anything  beneath  your 
own  standard,  because  when  you  go  down 
anywhere  for  any  reason,  your  standard 
goes  down  with  you.  There  is  that  pecu- 
liarity about  standards  that  we  keep  them 
right  with  us,  whether  we  go  up  or  whether 
we  go  down. 

221 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Oh,  Jane,"  said  Susan,  "we're  having 
such  an  interesting  time  talking  about  your 
religion." 

Jane  smiled.  "I'm  glad,"  she  said 
simply.  "Did  you  decide  to  absorb  some 
of  it?" 

"Oh,  I'm  converted,  anyhow,"  said  the 
aunt;  "nobody  could  live  in  the  house 
with  you  and  not  be,  and  Mr.  Rath  is  going 
to  try  it  for  a  while,  too." 

Jane  looked  at  Lorenzo  a  little  roguishly. 
"It's  a  contagion  in  the  town,"  she  said; 
"I  feel  like  an  ancient  missionary." 

"I  know,"  said  Susan,  "holding  up  a 
cross.  I've  seen  them  in  pictures." 

"Yes,  and  I  hold  up  the  cross,  too,"  said 
Jane,  "only  most  people  wouldn't  know  it. 
Do  you  know  what  the  cross  meant  in  the 
long-ago  times,  —  before  the  Christian 
era  ?"  she  asked  Lorenzo  quickly. 

"No." 

"It's  the  sunbeam  transfixing  and  vivify- 
ing the  earth-surface.  It  was  the  holiest 
symbol  of  the  power  of  God.  It  embodied 
222 


REAL  CONVERSATION 

divine  life  descending  straight  from  heaven 
and  making  itself  a  part  of  earth." 

"My  !"  exclaimed  Susan,  really  amazed. 

Jane  smiled  and  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
aunt's  affectionately.  "I  love  my  cross," 
she  said;  "it's  the  greatest  emblem  that 
humanity  can  know,  and,  just  because  we 
are  human,  it  will  always  keep  coming  back 
into  our  lives.  Only  it  shouldn't  be 
preached  as  a  burden,  it  should  be  preached 
as  an  opportunity." 

Lorenzo  sat  watching  her.  A  curious 
white  look  passed  over  his  face.  He  felt 
for  the  moment  that  he  hardly  ought  to 
dare  hope  that  this  girl  who  was  so  full  of 
help  for  all  should  narrow  her  field  of  labor 
to  just  him. 

"You'll  end  by  being  like  Dinah  in  Adam 
Bede,"  he  said,  trying  to  laugh;  "you  like 
to  teach  and  preach,  don't  you  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Jane  ;  "it's  always 
there,  right  on  my  heart  and  lips.  I  feel 
as  if  the  personal  *!'  was  only  its  voice." 

"I  don't  think  she's  exactly  human," 
223 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

said    Susan    meditatively;     "she    doesn't 
strike  me  so." 

"Don't  say  that,  Auntie,"  said  the  young 
girl  quickly;  "I  want  to  be  human  more 
than  anything  else.  I  don't  want  to  make 
you  or  anybody  feel  that  I'm  not.  It  would 
be  as  dreadfully  lonely  to  be  looked  upon  as 
unhuman  as  to  be  looked  upon  as  inhuman. 
I  want  to  work  and  love  and  be  loved." 

"But  you're  so  different  from  everybody 
else,"  said  her  aunt. 

"But  I  don't  want  to  be  different.  I 
want  to  just  be  a  woman  —  or  a  girl." 

Some  kindly  intuition  prompted  Susan  to 
change  the  subject.  "Mr.  Rath  and  I 
were  talking  about  girls  just  now ;  we  both 
thought  what  a  pity  it  is  that  there  are  so 
few  in  these  days." 

"I  guess  there  are  just  as  many  girls  as 
ever,  only  they  aren't  so  conspicuous," 
Jane  said,  laughing  at  Lorenzo. 

"I  think  they're  more  conspicuous," 
said  Lorenzo,  "only  they're  the  wrong 
kind." 

224 


REAL  CONVERSATION 

"I  liked  the  old  kind,"  said  Susan,  "the 
kind  that  stayed  at  home  and  wasn't  wild 
to  get  away  and  be  going  into  business." 

Jane  laughed  again.  "You  ought  not 
to  blame  the  girls,  Auntie.  Lots  of  them 
feel  dreadfully  over  leaving  home.  But 
they  have  to  go  out  and  work.  I  had  to,  I 
know.  It's  some  kind  of  big  world-change 
that's  pushing  us  all  on  into  different 
places." 

"I  wasn't  thinking  of  girls  who  do  some- 
thing nice  and  quiet  like  you.  I  was  think- 
ing of  the  others." 

"They  have  to  go,  too,"  said  Jane. 
"There's  a  fearful  pressure  that  we  don't 
understand  behind  it  all.  A  restlessness 
and  discontent  that  no  one  can  alter." 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Lorenzo;  "I 
never  thought  of  it,  but  I  can  see  that  it  is 
so  now  that  you've  put  it  into  my  head." 

"I've  seen  a  lot  of  it.     It's  curious  that 

it  seems  to  come  equally  to  women  who  want 

to  work  and  to  women  who  don't.     I'm 

sure  I  never  wanted  to  earn  my  living,  but 

225 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

I  was  forced  to  it.  And  ever  so  many 
others  are,  too.  It's  rather  an  awful  feeling 
that  you're  in  the  grip  of  a  power  that 
sweeps  your  life  beyond  your  guidance. 
I'm  trying  hard  to  be  big  enough  to  live  in 
this  century,  but  I'd  have  liked  the  last 
better." 

"  Don't  you  consider  that  there's  anything 
voluntary  in  the  way  women  are  acting 
now  ?"  Lorenzo  asked,  with  real  interest. 

"No,  I'm  afraid  not.  I  think  that 
there's  something  we  don't  understand,  or 
grasp,  or  —  or  quite  see  rightly.  I  believe 
that  everything  is  ordered  and  ordered 
ultimately  for  the  best,  and  I  see  the  prob- 
lems of  to-day  as  surely  here  by  God's 
will  and  to  be  worked  out  by  learning  the 
conduct  of  the  current  instead  of  opposing 
it.  But  still  I  really  don't  understand  it  all 
as  I  wish  that  I  did." 

"You  really  do  feel  God  as  a  friend," 
said  Lorenzo,  watching  her  illuminated  face. 
"He  isn't  just  a  religion  to  you,  then  ?" 

"He's  everything  to  me,"  said  Jane  rever- 
226 


REAL  CONVERSATION 

ently,  "Help  and  Sunlight  and  Strength 
and  Daily  Bread.  That  part  of  Him  that 
is  energy  manifests  in  us  in  one  way,  and 
that  part  of  Him  that  is  divine  right  and 
justice  manifests  in  us  in  another  way.  My 
part  in  this  life  is  to  learn  to  use  them  to- 
gether, but  they  and  all  else  are  all  God." 

Susan  rose  from  her  seat  and  stood  con- 
templating her  niece  and  Lorenzo  by  turns. 
"To  think  of  talking  like  this  in  my  house," 
she  said ;  "this  is  what  I  call  real  conversa- 
tion. I  tell  you,  Jane,  you  certainly  did 
lift  me  into  another  life  when  you  invited 
old  Mrs.  Croft  here.  Every  kind  of  re- 
ligion sinks  right  into  me  now,  and  I  can 
believe  without  the  least  bother.  It's  won- 
derful, but  I'm  going  to  have  a  short-cake 
for  tea,  so  I'll  have  to  go." 

She  went  away,  and  Lorenzo  turned  to 
the  window. 

There  was  a  little  pause  while  he  won- 
dered about  many  things.  Finally  he  held 
out  his  hand  abruptly.  ''You've  gone  a 
long  way,  Jane,"  he  said,  "you've  got  a  big 
227 


grip  on  life  and  its  meaning,  and  you  make 
me  understand  as  I  never  did  before  how 
hopeless  it  is  to  wish  that  the  wheels  of  time 
will  turn  backward.  But  whatever  you 
may  preach,  you  only  prove  what  I  said 
and  what  I  feel,  that  the  old-fashioned, 
sweet,  home-keeping,  winning  and  winable 
girl  is  gone,  only  she's  gone  in  a  different 
way  from  what  most  people  understand. 
When  she  still  exists,  she  exists  for  herself 
—  not  for  a  man." 

Jane  felt  her  eyes  fill  suddenly.  "Why 
do  you  say  that  ?" 

"Because  you  prove  it.  A  man  might 
adore  you,  but  he  couldn't  hope  to  get  you. 
Could  he?" 

Her  eyes  dropped.  "Do  you  think  that 
it's  all  any  harder  on  the  man  than  it  is  on 
the  girl?"  she  asked.  "If  men  feel  bad 
nowadays  over  the  changes,  how  do  you 
suppose  it  is  with  the  woman,  unfitted  to 
fight  and  forced  into  the  battle.  A  woman 
isn't  built  as  a  man  is ;  she's  created  for 
another  kind  of  work,  much  harder  and 


REAL  CONVERSATION 

lasting,  much  longer  than  any  man's  labor. 
And  she  has  to  leave  that  work  of  her  own 
either  undone  or  only  half-done  and  do 
things  unsuited  to  her.  Of  course  there 
are  some  girls  and  women  who  like  it,  — 
but  most  of  them  don't.  Most  of  them  feel 
dreadfully  and  would  give  anything  to  be 
able  to  stay  in  a  home  and  live  the  life  God 
meant  to  be  woman's.  There's  always  a 
pitiful  story  behind  nine  out  of  every  ten 
bread-winning  women,  whether  they  go 
out  washing  or  are  artists  like  you.  A 
woman  never  leaves  her  home  until  she's 
forced  to  do  so." 

"Are  you  sure  that  you  know  what  you're 
talking  about  ?  Aren't  you  an  idealist  ? 
Look  at  Emily  Mead  — "he  smiled  in  spite 
of  his  earnestness.  "If  she  had  a  rag  of 
a  chance,  she'd  fly  off  to-morrow.  It 
wouldn't  take  force." 

Jane  remained  carefully  grave.  "That's 
more  her  mother's  fault  than  hers.  Her 
mother  has  taught  her  that  girls  only  live 
to  marry." 

229 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"And  quite  right,  too.  Don't  you  be- 
lieve it?" 

"It  used  to  be  true,  but  it  isn't  now.  A 
girl  can't  marry  without  a  man,  and  the 
world's  all  disjointed.  It's  a  part  of  that 
strange  new  leaven  which  causes  civilization 
to  drive  men  and  women  both  to  become 
homeless  by  separating  them  widely  on 
earth." 

"Of  course  it's  a  governmental  crime  to 
send  men  by  the  hundreds  of  thousands  to 
fight  it  out  alone  in  Canada  and  leave 
their  sisters  to  be  old  maids  in  England, 
but  governments  are  pretty  stupid,  nowa- 
days." 

"We  are  all  pretty  stupid.  We  build 
all  our  difficulties  and  then  hang  to  them 
and  their  consequences  for  dear  life.  It's 
too  bad  in  us." 

"Do  you  mean  woman  ?" 

"No,  I  mean  everybody." 

"It's  depressing,  isn't  it  ?" 

"I  don't  think  so.     I  think  it's  grand." 

"Grand!" 

230 


REAL  CONVERSATION 

"Yes,  because  I  like  to  struggle  in  a  big 
way.  And  then,  too,  if  I'm  a  woman  forced 
to  work  because  I'm  one  part  of  the  prob- 
lem, I'm  also  gloriously  happy  in  being  part 
of  the  new  upburst  of  comprehension  that's 
balancing  and  will  soon  overbalance  such  a 
lot  of  the  troubles." 

"  You  mean  ?  Oh,  you  mean  your  way  of 
looking  at  things." 

"Of  course  I  do.  I'm  so  blessedly  glad 
of  every  circumstance  in  my  life,  because 
each  one  led  to  my  getting  hold  of  just  what 
I  have  got  hold  of.  I'm  perfectly  happy 
and  perfectly  content.  It's  so  beautiful 
to  be  guided  by  a  rule  that  never  fails." 

Lorenzo  couldn't  but  laugh.  "I  tell 
you  what,"  he  said  gayly,  "I'll  let  you  into 
a  little  secret.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to 
go  to  work  and  learn  how  to  work  that  game 
of  yours  myself.  I  want  to  be  blessedly 
glad  and  gloriously  happy,  too." 

"You've  got  to  be  in  earnest,  you  know," 
Jane  said.  "It's  handling  live  wires  to 
amuse  oneself  with  any  force  of  God,  and 
231 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

will-power  is  more  of  a  force  than  elec- 
tricity." 

"Oh,  I'm  in  earnest,"  said  the  artist. 
"  I've  made  my  picture  —  as  you  say  - 
and  I  hang  to  it  for  grim  death.  Only  I 
can't  see,  if  you  feel  as  you  do  about  home 
and  marriage,  and  all  that,  why  you  don't 
make  one,  too." 

"I'm  making  ever  so  many  homes,"  said 
Jane.  "I'm  teaching  home-making. 
That's  a  Sunshine  Nurse's  business,  and  it 
would  be  selfish  in  me  to  desert  my  task. 
Besides  — "  she  paused. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   MOST   WONDERFUL   THING   EVER 
HAPPENED 

SHE  stopped  and  hesitated. 
"Yes,"    he     said     impatiently,     "be- 
sides—?" 

"I  wonder  if  it  would  be  right  to  be  quite 
frank  with  you  ?" 

"Nothing  sincere  is  ever  wrong.  Of 
course  you  ought  to  be  quite  frank  with  me, 
—  aren't  you  that  with  every  one  ?" 

Still  she  considered. 

"What  stops  you  ?"  he  asked.  "Go  on. 
Tell  me  everything.  It's  my  right." 

"Why  is  it  your  right  ?" 

"Because  I  love  you,  and  you  know  it." 

She  started  violently,  then  turned  very 
white.     "Don't     say    that.     I've    always 
233 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

thought  of  you  as  engaged  to  Madeleine. 
She  was  talking  to  me,  and  I  thought  —  I 
She  stopped,  quite  shaken. 

;'You  misunderstand  her.  She's  always 
been  in  love  with  one  fellow  —  the  one  that 
her  parents  are  against.  He's  even  poorer 
than  I  am." 

Then  Jane  pressed  her  lips  together  and 
interlocked  her  fingers.  "I  can  never 
marry.  I  never  think  of  it.  There's  money 
to  be  paid,  nobody  to  pay  it  but  me,  and  no 
way  to  get  it  except  to  earn  it." 

Lorenzo  looked  almost  sternly  at  her. 
"What  about  the  book  you  lent  me;  it 
would  say  that  that  was  setting  limits.  It 
says  that  we've  not  to  concern  ourselves 
with  ways  and  means.  I've  only  to  con- 
cern myself  with  loving  you.  The  rest  will 
come  along  of  its  own  accord." 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  it  won't. 
This  world  is  all  learning,  and  it's  part  of 
my  lesson  not  to  be  able  to  apply  it  in  ab- 
solute faith  to  myself.  So  many  teachers 
have  wisdom  to  give  away  which  they  can't 
234 


THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  THING 

quite  take  unto  themselves,  you  know." 
She  smiled  a  little  tremulously. 

"But  you  ought  to  take  it  unto  yourself. 
It  ought  to  be  easy  and  simple  for  you  to 
realize  that  if  conditions  are  false,  they  don't 
exist;  that  if  you  want  a  home,  it's  because 
you  are  going  to  have  one;  that  if  I  love 
you,  it's  because  it's  right  that  you  should  be 
loved." 

She  put  her  hands  down  helplessly  on 
each  side  of  the  chair-seat.  "I  never  even 
think  of  such  things,"  she  said,  almost  in  a 
whisper. 

"But  why  not?" 

"I've  always  been  so  necessary  to  others. 
I've  no  rights  in  my  own  life." 

"But  if  life  is  a  thing  to  guide,  why  not 
guide  your  beneficence  as  well  from  a  basis 
of  home  as  from  one  of  homelessness  ?  " 

"Nothing  has  ever  seemed  to  be  for  me, 
myself.  Everything  has  always  pointed  to 
me  for  others." 

Lorenzo  paced  back  and  forth.  "But  it 
is  the  women  like  you  who  should  show  the 
235 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

way  out  of  the  wilderness  and  back  to  the 
right,  instead  of  attempting  to  order  the 
chaos  while  sweeping  on  with  it.  If  there 
be  a  real  truth  in  this  new  teaching  which 
lays  hold  of  all  those  who  are  in  earnest  so 
easily  and  so  quickly,  its  first  care  should 
be  to  demonstrate  happiness  in  the  lives  of 
its  believers,  —  not  the  negative  happiness 
of  wide-spread  devotion  to  others,  but  the 
positive  lessons  of  joy  in  the  center  from 
which  springs  —  must  spring  —  the  next 
generation  of  better,  wiser  men  and  women, 
those  among  whom  I  expect  to  live  as  an  old 
man." 

Jane  turned  her  face  away,  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears.  :'You  make  me  feel  very  small 
and  petty,"  she  said;  "you  show  me  a  way 
beyond  what  I  had  guessed.  But  I  can't 
grasp  at  it ;  I'm  too  used  to  asking  nothing 
for  myself.  I'm  always  so  sure  that  God 
is  managing  for  me.  And  I  have  so  much 
to  do." 

"Perhaps  realization  that  God  is  manag- 
ing is  all  that  you  need  to  set  right.  Per- 
236 


THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  THING 

haps  that  confidence  will  bring  you  all 
things.  Even  me."  He  laughed  a  little. 

"It  has  brought  me  all  that  I  needed. 
Daily  bread,  daily  possibilities  of  helpful- 
ness,—  I  don't  ask  more,  except  'more 
light.'" 

"It  sounds  a  little  presumptuous  coming 
from  me,  but  perhaps  I  can  help  you  towards 
your  end,  even  as  to  'more  light.'  At  any 
rate,  I'll  try  if  you'll  let  me." 

She  sat  quite  still.  Finally  she  lifted  up 
her  eyes  —  and  they  were  beautiful  eyes, 
big  and  true  —  and  said,  the  words  coming 
softly  forth:  "It  would  be  so  wonderful." 

Lorenzo  didn't  speak.  He  felt  choked 
and  gasping.  To  him  it  was  also  "so  won- 
derful," as  wonderful  as  if  he  hadn't  lived 
with  it  night  and  day  ever  since  the  first 
minute  of  knowing  her.  "I  think  I'd  better 
go,"  he  said  very  gently,  realizing  keenly 
that  he  must  not  press  her  in  this  first  blush 
of  the  new  spring-time.  "I've  'made  my 
picture'  you  know,  and  I  won't  let  it  fade, 
you  may  be  sure.  And  you  must  believe 
237 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

in  happiness  for  yourself,  —  you  tell  us  that 
the  first  step  is  all  that  counts.  Get  the 
seed  into  the  ground  then.  I'll  do  the  rest." 

She  sat  quite  still.  "If  I  could  only 
try,"  she  whispered.  He  turned  quickly 
away  and  was  gone. 

After  a  dizzy  little  while  she  rose  and 
went  into  the  kitchen.  Susan  was  moving 
briskly  about. 

"Two  cups  flour,  four  teaspoonfuls  bak- 
ing powder,  one  of  sugar,  one  of  salt,  two 
of  butter,  two  of  lard,  cup  half  water,  half 
milk,  pour  in  pan  greased  and  bake  in  hot 
oven.  Scotch  scone-bread  for  lunch,"  she 
said,  almost  suiting  the  deed  to  the  word. 
"Is  Mr.  Rath  still  here?" 

"No,  he's  gone." 

:'You  know,  Jane,  he's  caught  your  re- 
ligion. I  never  heard  anything  like  it. 
He's  got  the  whole  thing  pat.  I'd  be  almost 
scared  to  go  round  teaching  a  thing  like 
that.  Why,  folks'll  be  doing  anything  they 
please  soon.  I've  been  wondering  if  I  could 
get  strong  enough  to  kind  of  dispose  of 
238 


THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  THING 

Matilda,  in  some  perfectly  right  way,  you 
know.  I  wouldn't  think  of  anything  that 
wasn't  perfectly  right,  you  know." 

Jane  seemed  a  little  numb  and  stood 
watching  the  buttering  of  the  scone-pan 
without  speaking. 

"I  keep  saying:  'Matilda  doesn't  want 
to  come  back.  Matilda's  disposed  of  in  a 
perfectly  pleasant  way.'  I've  been  saying 
it  ever  since  I  began  on  those  scones.  I 
guess  I've  said  it  twenty  times,  and  I'm 
beginning  to  make  a  real  impression  on  my- 
self. I'm  beginning  to  feel  sure  God  is 
fixing  things  up.  It's  too  beautiful  to  feel 
God  taking  an  interest  in  your  affairs. 
Matilda  doesn't  want  to  come  home. 
Matilda  is  completely  disposed  of  in  a  per- 
fectly pleasant  way."  Susan's  accents  were 
very  emphatic. 

"Auntie,"  said  Jane,  turning  her  eyes 
towards  her  and  rallying  her  attention  by  a 
strong  effort,  "you  know  your  perfect  faith 
is  because  Aunt  Matilda  really  isn't  anxious 
to  come  home.  It's  only  if  you're  doubting 
239 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

that  there's  any  doubt  about  it.  One 
doesn't  alter  Destiny,  one  only  apprehends 
it.  Oh,  dear,"  she  said  though,  sitting 
down  suddenly,  and  hiding  her  face  in  her 
hands,  "the  thing  about  light  is  that  it 
always  keeps  bursting  over  you  with  a  new 
light,  and  my  own  teaching  has  suddenly 
come  to  me  as  if  I'd  never  known  what  any 
of  it  meant  before.  I'm  too  stunned  at 
seeing  how  I've  limited  myself.  I'm  really 
too  stupid." 

Susan  glanced  at  her  as  she  poured  the 
batter  into  the  pan,  and  then  kept  glancing. 
Her  face  grew  softened,  "I  wouldn't  worry, 
dear,"  she  said  finally,  "don't  you  bother 
over  anything.  God's  taking  care  of  every- 
thing and  everybody.  It's  every  bit  of  it 
all  right.  You  must  know  that  yourself, 
or  you  never  could  have  taught  it  to  me." 

:'Yes,  I  do  know  it,  —  but  in  spite  of 
myself  I  can't  see  —  I  can't  dare  think  — " 

"  You  told  me  not  to  worry  over  old  Mrs. 
Croft,"  said  Susan,  coming  around  by  her 
side  and  putting  her  arm  about  her;  "you 
240 


THE  MOST  WONDERFUL  THING 

said  worry  spoiled  everything.  And  I  did 
try  so  hard." 

"Yes,  I  know,  I'll  try.  I  really  will  — 
But  -  "  suddenly  she  turned  deep  crimson, 
"it  seems  too  awful  for  me  to  take  one 
minute  to  work  on  myself  or  my  life.  I 
need  all  my  time  for  others." 

"But  you  don't  have  to,"  said  Susan, 
"all  you've  got  to  do  is  to  know  things  are 
right.  You  know  they're  right  because 
they  are  right.  Everything's  coming  along 
fine,  and  you  just  feel  it  coming;  that's 
your  part.  My  goodness,  Jane,  isn't  this 
funny  ?  There  isn't  a  blessed  thing  you've 
preached  to  me  that  I  ain't  having  to  preach 
back  to  you  now.  You  don't  seem  to  have 
sensed  hardly  any  of  your  own  meaning. 
Talk  about  being  a  channel ;  you'd  better 
choke  up  a  little  and  hold  back  some  for 
yourself." 

Jane   threw   her   arms   around   her   and 

kissed  her.     "Auntie,  you're  right,  you're 

right.     I  won't  doubt  a  mite  more.     I'll  try 

to  know  as  much  as  I  seem  to  have  taught." 

241 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Just  be  yourself,  you  Sunshine  Jane, 
you,"  Susan  was  clinging  close  to  the  girl 
she  loved  so  well,  "just  be  yourself.  Noth- 
ing else  is  needed." 

"Yes,"  Jane  whispered,  "I  will." 

"That's  the  thing,"  said  Susan ;  ' "  cause 
you've  certainly  taught  us  a  lot.  I'll  lay 
the  table  now,"  she  moved  towards  the  door, 
"  Matilda  doesn't  want  to  come  home.  Ma- 
tilda wants  to  stay  away  in  some  perfectly 
pleasant  way,"  she  added  with  heavy  em- 
phasis, passed  through,  and  let  the  door  close. 

Jane  was  left  alone  in  the  kitchen. 

"He  said  he  loved  me  !"  she  thought 
over  and  over.  "It  seems  so  wonderful  — 
the  most  wonderful  thing  that  has  ever 
happened  since  the  world  was  made.  He 
said  he  loved  me  !" 

She  went  up-stairs  to  her  own  room  and 
shut  the  door  softly,  "Of  course  I  can  never 
marry  him,"  she  whispered  aloud,  "but 
he  did  say  he  loved  me.  Oh,  I  know  that 
nothing  so  wonderful  ever  was  in  this  world 
before!" 

242 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHY  JANE  SHOULD  HAVE  BELIEVED 

rilHE  Sunshine  Nurse  was  long  in  seek- 
-•-  ing  sleep  that  night  and  early  to  rise 
the  next  morning.  She  found  herself  sud- 
denly metamorphosed  —  facing  a  new 
world  —  two  worlds  in  fact.  There  was  the 
world  of  Lorenzo's  actually  loving  her, 
which  was  a  dream  from  which  she  would 
surely  awaken,  and  then  there  was  that 
second  world  of  wonder,  the  world  of  her 
own  teaching,  a  world  in  which  she  started, 
big-eyed,  at  all  in  which  she  had  trusted, 
and  wondered  if  it  could  be  possible  that 
what  she  believed  firmly  and  preached  so 
ardently  was  really  true.  "It  isn't  setting 
limits  to  face  what  must  be,"  she  said 
over  and  over  to  herself,  "and  I  must  pay 
243 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

poor  father's  debts,  and  there  is  no  possible 
way  for  me  to  get  the  money  except  to 
earn  it  bit  by  bit."  The  statement  had 
gone  to  bed  with  her,  and  it  rose  with  her 
when  she  rose;  it  looked  indisputable,  in- 
controvertible, as  all  fixed  statements  have 
a  way  of  looking  —  and  yet  each  time  that 
she  made  it  she  felt  hot  with  guilt.  "It's 
setting  limits,"  cried  her  soul,  "it's  saying 
that  God  can't  possibly  do  what  He  pleases," 
and,  as  she  listened  to  the  strong,  heaven- 
sent cry  of  rebellion  against  petty  earthly 
laws,  she  struggled  in  the  meshes  of  her  own 
old  earlier  learning,  the  "old  garment" 
which  clings  so  close  about  us  all,  and  which 
we  simply  must  discard  before  we  can  don 
the  new  robe  of  Infinite  Hope  and  Radiant 
Belief  in  God's  law  of  Only  Good  for  Each 
and  Every  One. 

Jane  always  rose  an  hour  before  her  aunt. 
The  hour  was  spent  in  opening  windows, 
brushing  up  and  building  the  kitchen  fire. 
It  was  always  a  pleasant  hour,  for  she 
usually  filled  it  to  the  brim  with  work  well 
244 


JANE  SHOULD   HAVE  BELIEVED 

done  and  thoughts  sent  strongly  and  happily 
out  over  the  coming  time.  But  to-day 
all  this  was  changed;  new  thoughts  rioted 
forth  on  every  side,  and  a  sort  of  chaos  took 
the  place  of  her  usually  sunny  calm.  This 
riot  and  chaos  is  the  common,  logical  out- 
come of  all  who  feel  sure  that  they  are  wiser 
than  God.  You  cannot  possibly  set  any 
border  to  His  Kingdom  and  then  be  happy 
in  that  outer  darkness  which  you  have 
deliberately  chosen  for  your  own  part.  As 
well  ask  a  cow  to  shut  herself  out  of  her 
pasture  and  rest  happy  in  the  waste  beyond. 
"I  mustn't  think,  because  it  is  none  of  it 
for  me — "  she  repeated  over  and  over, 
much  as  if  the  aforesaid  cow  declared.  "I 
am  barred  out  —  I  can  never  get  back  —  I 
must  starve  contentedly."  Jane  —  who 
would  have  laughed  at  my  illustration 
quite  as  you  have  laughed  yourself  —  saw 
only  distress  in  her  own,  and  had  to  wink 
away  so  many  tears  that  finally  in  maddest 
self-defense  she  rushed  out  doors  and  fled 
to  the  little  garden  that  had,  through  so 
245 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

many  years,  been  Susan's  refuge  in  such  a 
droll  way. 

And  Lorenzo  was  there  ! 

He  looked  very  blithe  and  happy. 
"Well,"  he  said,  "have  you  thought  it  over 
and  decided  that  you're  right,  after  all  ?" 

She  was  panting,  and  surprise  flooded 
her  face  with  color.  "Oh — "  she  gasped, 
"oh!"  and  then:  "Right  —  of  course 
I'm  right !" 

He  approached,  his  hand  extended. 
"Right  in  believing,  or  right  in  mis- 
trusting?" 

She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  he  took  it. 
"Don't  put  it  that  way,"  she  said;  "it 
isn't  that  way." 

"But,  dear  Jane,  that's  the  only  way  to 
put  it.  It's  the  way  you've  been  teaching 
us.  Either  we  can  look  up  and  ahead  con- 
fidently, or  you're  all  wrong.  I  can't  be- 
lieve that  you're  ever  even  a  little  bit 
wrong,  so  I'm  going  to  believe  that  it's  all 
true." 

"  No,  no  —  it  isn't  —  I  mean  —  Oh,  in 
246 


JANE  SHOULD  HAVE  BELIEVED 

my  case,  it  can't  be  so.  Everything  that 
I  said  was  true,  only  I  myself  am  meant  to 
—  to  work  —  not  to  —  to  marry.  It's  a  kind 
of  pledge  I've  taken  to  myself.  It  doesn't 
change  the  teaching."  Then  she  dragged 
her  hand  free. 

Lorenzo  smiled.  :<You  can't  tell  me  any 
of  that.  I  know.  I'm  the  happiest  man 
in  the  world."  Then  he  went  on,  taking 
up  the  rake  and  scratching  a  little  here 
and  there:  "Like  other  pupils,  I've  sur- 
passed my  teacher.  You've  preached,  and 
I  practice;  you  can  describe  God's  thoughts, 
and  I  think  them.  You're  sure  that  He 
can  do  anything,  and  I  know  what  He's 
going  to  do.  I've  been  let  straight  into  one 
of  His  secrets.  It's  been  revealed  to  me 
how  the  world  is  run." 

Jane  stared.     "How  can  you  talk  so  ?" 

"I  talk  so  because  I  know  so.  Every- 
thing's coming  right  for  you." 

;' You're  crazy,"  she  tried  to  laugh. 

"I've  heard  people  say  that  of  you.  Not 
that  it  matters." 

247 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

She  stood  watching  him  and  considering 
his  words.  "I  wouldn't  let  you  give  me  the 
money  to  straighten  out  my  father's  affairs, 
even  if  you  were  ever  so  rich,  you  know," 
she  said  slowly.  "I  couldn't." 

"I  know  it." 

"And  I  wouldn't  let  Auntie  pay  the'debts." 

"I  know.  God  doesn't  require  either 
your  aunt's  help  or  mine  in  this  matter." 

Jane's  eyes  moistened  slightly.  "Please 
don't  make  a  joke  of  anything  so  hard  and 
sad." 

"I'm  not  joking;  I'm  a  veritable  apostle 
of  joy.  I'm  as  happy  as  I  can  be." 

She  looked  at  him  with  real  wonder  be- 
cause his  appearance  certainly  bore  out 
his  words.  "I  wish  that  I  knew  what  you 
meant." 

He  dropped  the  rake,  came  to  her  side, 
and  caught  her  hand.  "Can't  you  trust 
God  —  can't  you  trust  me  ?  —  won't  you 
try?" 

She  looked  up  into  his  face.     "I  wish 
that  I  could,  but  how  can  I  ?" 
248 


JANE  SHOULD   HAVE  BELIEVED 

:'You  ought  to  know.  So  deep  and  big 
and  true  a  nature.  Surely  you  ought  to 
be  able  to  understand  your  own  teaching  !" 

"But  I  can't  see  any  way." 

"Your  book  says  that  one  must  not 
think  of  ways ;  one  must  just  look  straight 
to  the  good  end." 

"Oh,  but  there  isn't  any  such  end  possible 
for  me." 

Lorenzo  dropped  her  hand  and  laughed 
out  loud.  And  then  he  caught  her  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her. 

She  screamed.  To  her  it  was  the  greatest 
shock  of  her  life,  for  no  man  had  ever  kissed 
her  before.  "Oh  —  oh,  mercy  !" 

Matters  were  not  helped  much  by  Susan's 
looking  over  the  fence  just  then  and  crying 
out  abruptly  :  "Well,  I  declare  !" 

"Mrs.  Ralston,"  said  Lorenzo,  not  even 
blushing,  "you're  the  very  person  we  need 
this  minute.  I  want  to  marry  Jane,  and 
she  won't  hear  to  it  because  of  her  father's 
debts.  The  debts  are  all  right  and  every- 
thing's all  right,  only  she  won't  believe  it. 
249 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

I  wish  you'd  climb  the  fence  and  help  me 
persuade  her,  for  although  I  know  she'll  end 
by  marrying  me,  I've  just  set  my  heart  on 
converting  her  to  her  own  religion  first." 

Susan  swung  easily  over  the  fence. 
"You're  just  right,  Mr.  Rath,  you  ought 
to  marry  her.  She's  the  nicest  person  to 
have  around  the  house  that  I  ever  saw;  she's 
far  too  good  to  be  a  nurse.  How  much 
did  your  father  owe,  you  Sunshine  Jane, 
you  ?  Maybe  I  can  pay  it.  I  will  if  I 
can." 

"There,"  said  Lorenzo ;  "see  how  easy  it 
is  to  evolve  money  if  you'd  only  trust  a 
little?" 

Jane  looked  at  him  and  then  at  Susan. 
"I  couldn't  take  your  money,  Auntie," 
said  she,  quite  gently,  but  quite  firmly. 
"And  then,  too,"  she  added,  with  her 
roguish  smile,  "you've  left  it  to  Aunt 
Matilda." 

"Yes,  but  dear,"  Susan's  face  became 
suddenly  radiant,  "you  know  I've  been 
working  your  religion  on  her;  maybe  she 
250 


JANE  SHOULD   HAVE   BELIEVED 

isn't  coming  back  at  all ;  maybe  something 
will  happen;  maybe  she's  going  to  be 
drowned  or  something  like  that  in  some 
perfectly  right  way." 

"No,"  said  Lorenzo  soberly.  "It  isn't 
necessary  to  plan  as  to  God's  business  at 
all.  He  knows.  I  don't  think  that  Jane 
ought  to  take  anybody's  money  ;  she  ought 
to  pay  the  debts  with  her  own  money,  but 
I  can't  see  why  she  can't  trust  and  know  it's 
coming." 

"Because  there's  no  place  for  it  to  come 
from,"  said  Jane  firmly. 

"Unless  Matilda  — "  Susan  interposed. 

"I  believe  I'm  better  at  her  religion  than 
she  is  herself,"  said  Lorenzo.  "I  declare, 
I  believe  that  there's  nothing  that  I  can't 
get  now.  I  wanted  a  house,  and  I  worked 
just  as  the  book  said  !  I  saw  myself  living 
cosily  alone,  and  in  less  than  a  week  I  was 
living  cosily  alone.  Now  I  want  Jane  with 
me  in  the  house,  and  I  mean  to  have  her, 
and  I  shall  have  her,  and  there's  no  doubt 
about  that ;  but  I  do  wish  —  with  all  my 
251 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

heart  —  that  she  could  rise  to  a  higher 
plane.'* 

"If  that's  all,  I  know  how  to  manage  that 
easily  enough,"  said  Susan.  "We  could 
get  old  Mr.  Cattermole  in  for  a  week  and 
raise  Jane's  plane  with  him,  just  like  she 
raised  mine  with  Mrs.  Croft." 

"Oh,  she'll  rise,"  said  her  lover  quietly. 
"We  must  give  her  time  and  help  her, 
that's  all." 

Jane  stood  doubting  between  them.  Her 
aunt  regarded  her  wistfully.  "Dear  me," 
she  said,  "I  wonder  if  I  could  screw  myself 
up  to  believing  she'll  come  in  for  a  fortune. 
I  want  to  help,  but  I'm  a  little  like  her  — 
I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  see  where  it's  to 
come  from." 

"But  that  isn't  the  question  at  all,"  said 
Lorenzo,  "the  question  isn't  how  —  the 
question  is  just  the  faith.  Why,  it's  the 
corner-stone  of  the  whole  thing  !  It's  the 
moving  into  God's  world  where  nothing 
but  good  can  be,  and  you  know  you're 
there  because  you  see  only  good  coming  in 
252 


JANE  SHOULD   HAVE   BELIEVED 

all  directions  !  Just  good  —  nothing  but 
good  !  I  don't  see  why  Jane  holds  back  so. 
I  know  that  she  can  get  that  money  and 
get  every  other  thing  she  wants  in  life,  in- 
cluding me,  and  I'm  one  of  the  nicest  fellows 
alive—" 

"That's  so — "  interposed  Susan. 

"If  she'll  only  put  out  her  hand  with 
confidence.  I've  studied  that  book  till 
I'm  full  of  it,  and  I  know  that  I'm  going  to 
have  her  for  my  wife,  and  I  know  it  ab- 
solutely, and  I  want  her  to  know  it, 
too." 

Susan  began  to  get  back  over  the  fence. 
"I'm  going  in  about  breakfast,"  she  said; 
"the  trouble  with  us  is  we  all  need  hot  coffee 
to  brace  up  our  souls." 

"Keep  on  declaring  the  truth,"  Lorenzo 
reminded  her,  as  she  walked  off  upon  the 
other  side. 

"I  will.  I'll  say  'Jane  is  going  to  get 
some  money'  and  *  Matilda  doesn't  want  to 
come  home  to  live,'  alternately." 

When  she  was  out  of  hearing  the  two 
253 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

young  people  remained  silent  for  a  few 
seconds.  Then  the  man  spoke. 

"Dear,"  his  voice  was  very  gentle,  "I 
want  to  tell  you  something.  I've  had  a 
very  great  experience  in  the  last  twenty-four 
hours.  It  isn't  loving  you  —  it's  that  I've 
been  allowed  to  see  a  little  bit  of  life  from 
God's  standpoint.  Don't  you  want  to 
know  the  real  truth  about  all  this  ? " 

"What  do  you  mean  ?" 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you,  because  you'll  see 
the  lesson  and  learn  it  with  me.  We  don't 
doubt  that  God  knows  all  that  has  been  or 
is  to  be,  do  we  ?  —  or  that  in  our  minutes  of 
fiercest  pain  or  trouble  He  looks  calmly  to 
the  end  beyond  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head.  "No,  of  course 
not." 

"Well,  dearest  girl,  I  was  allowed  last 
night  to  put  myself  in  the  Deity's  place 
and  see  one  corner  of  the  universe  as  He 
must  see  the  whole." 

Her  eyes  grew  big.  "What  do  you 
mean  ?" 

"I  mean  this.  I  want  you,  and  I  under- 
254 


JANE  SHOULD  HAVE  BELIEVED 

stand  perfectly  about  the  money.  I  sat 
down  last  night  and  I  labored  with  myself 
until  I  made  myself  know  that  it  was  yours. 
I  can't  tell  you  just  how  it  came  to  me,  but 
I  knew  it.  It  is  yours  and  yours  absolutely, 
and  now  I  want  you  to  realize  it  and  believe 
in  it  without  question,  before  I  give  it  to 
you.  Will  you  do  that  ?  I'm  asking  of 
you  the  faith  that  Jesus  preached.  Can 
you  believe  ?" 

Jane  looked  at  him  wonderingly.  'You 
mean  — " 

"I  mean  just  what  I  say." 

"I  can't  receive  money  from  you." 

"It  isn't  my  money." 

"I  don't  understand.  I  only  know  that 
there  is  no  way  that  I  can  get  the  money." 

Lorenzo  looked  at  her  a  minute,  and  then 
said  slowly  and  very  gently:  "I've  found 
Mrs.  Croft's  will.  She  left  all  that  she  had 
to  whoever  took  care  of  her  the  night  she 
died.  It  appears  that  she  had  a  good  deal 
more  than  any  one  supposed.  It's  all 
yours,  dear.  Now  you  see  why  you  should 
have  trusted." 

255 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN   A   PERFECTLY   RIGHT   WAY 

WHEN  Susan,  looking  out  of  the 
window,  saw  the  two  whom  she 
had  left  behind  coming  across  the  grass, 
she  knew  instantly. 

"They've  settled  it  somehow,"  she  ex- 
claimed in  supremest  joy,  and  whirled  to 
whisk  the  bacon  off  the  stove. 

"Auntie,"  said  Jane,  from  outside  the 
window,  the  minute  after,  "I  am  just 
dumb.  I  don't  believe  I'll  ever  be  able  to 
lift  up  my  head  in  life  again." 

"Auntie,"  said  Lorenzo,  over  her 
shoulder,  "she's  inherited  her  fortune." 

Susan  gave  a  scream.  "Oh,  good 
mercy  !" 

"Yes,  dear,"  said  her  niece,  now  in  the 
256 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

doorway,  "only  I  can't  believe  it.  I  think 
that  it's  a  dream." 

"You  see  she  still  isn't  able  to  rise  to 
the  proper  heights  of  trust,"  laughed  her 
lover,  also  now  in  the  doorway,  "but  I 
have  hopes  of  yet  teaching  her  to  believe 
what  she  believes." 

"Come  straight  in  and  help  me  set  all 
this  on  the  table,  so  that  I  can  listen  with 
a  free  mind."  Susan's  appeal  was  pathetic 
in  the  extreme.  "Where  did  she  get  it, 
anyhow?" 

"Oh,  Auntie,  it's  the  most  wonderful 
thing  you  ever  heard  of."  Jane  took  up 
the  coffee-pot  and  led  the  way. 

"I  did  it  all,  except  I  didn't  provide  the 
money,"  said  Lorenzo,  and  the  next  minute 
they  were  all  seated,  and  he  could  tell  the 
whole  story. 

Susan  didn't  scream.  She  sat  still,  a 
bit  of  toast  in  her  hand,  listening  breath- 
lessly. When  Lorenzo  had  finished,  "Oh, 
that  new  religion  !"  she  murmured  in  an 
awed  voice,  and  then,  "Nothing  like  this 
257 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

ever    happened    in    this    town    before,    I 
know." 

"I'm  more  bewildered  over  it's  being 
there  for  me  and  my  not  being  able  to  be- 
lieve than  I  am  by  the  money,"  said  Jane. 
"Oh,  Auntie,  what  a  lesson,  what  a  lesson  !" 

"You  would  limit  yourself,  you  see," 
said  Lorenzo  ;  "you  wouldn't  believe." 

"How  could  I  ever  imagine  such  a 
thing?" 

"You  didn't  have  to  imagine, —  you 
only  had  to  expect." 

r<You  laid  limits,  you  see,"  said  Susan, 
suddenly  beginning  to  pour  out  the  coffee, 
and  pouring  with  a  glad  dash  that  swept 
over  cup  and  saucer  together.  "I  expect 
if  God  hadn't  been  patient  —  like  Mr. 
Rath  —  He  could  have  very  well  hid  that 
will  forever.  There  may  be  a  lot  of  such 
goings  on  in  the  world,  for  all  we  know. 
My  goodness,  suppose  I'd  been  like  Matilda 
and  not  have  had  old  Mrs.  Croft  around 
for  one  minute,  —  it  makes  me  ill  to  think 
of  it !  It's  a  lesson  for  me,  too." 
258 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

"Life  is  all  lessons/'  said  Jane.  "Dear 
me,  think  of  Aunt  Matilda's  surprise  !" 

"Think  of  it !  Good  mercy,  how  can  I 
wait  to  tell  her!"  Susan's  whole  face 
beamed.  "I  don't  mind  a  bit  her  coming 
back  now.  That  shows  the  good  of  making 
that  declaration  about  her.  Those  dec- 
larations are  a  great  thing.  I've  told 
myself  Matilda  was  coming  back  in  a 
perfectly  right  way  so  many  times  that  now, 
however  she  came  back,  I'd  be  positive  it 
was  perfectly  right." 

"Ah,  Auntie,"  said  Jane,  "you've  got 
hold  of  another  great  truth.  Every  one 
seems  quicker  than  me." 

"Well,  you  started  us  at  it,  anyhow," 
said  Susan  kindly.  "Oh  my,  but  I'm 
happy  !  Why,  I  believe  I'm  really  in  a 
hurry  now  for  Matilda  to  come  back,  just 
so  I  can  tell  her.  Think  of  that  —  me 
really  and  truly  anxious  to  see  Matilda 
again  !  My,  you  Sunshine  Jane,  you  — 
what  a  lot  of  difference  you've  made  in 
me." 

259 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"When  is  your  aunt  coming?"  Lorenzo 
asked  Jane. 

"She  went  for  three  weeks,"  said  Jane; 
"it  will  be  three  weeks  next  Thursday." 

"Goodness,  only  three  weeks,  and  it 
seems  like  three  years?"  observed  Susan. 
"What  a  lot  has  happened  !  There's  Jane 

—  and  her  religion  —  and  me  up  and  well 

—  and  old   Mrs.   Croft  here  and  gone  — 
and  you,  Mr.  Rath,  —  and  then  you  and 
Jane  —  and  now  this  money." 

"I  can't  believe  any  of  it,"  said  Jane; 
"I  try,  but  I  just  can't.  I  guess  I'm  hope- 
lessly limited.  I'm  too  bewildered,  I  — " 

"I'll  tell  you  what  ails  you,"  said  her 
aunt  warmly.  "It's  that  you've  spread 
yourself  too  much ;  you've  given  such  a 
lot  away  everywhere  that  you've  got  to 
just  stop  and  let  the  tide  run  backwards 
into  you  yourself  for  a  while.  It's  nature. 
Nature  and  the  new  religion  combined." 

"I  feel  overwhelmed  by  the  coming- 
back  tide  then,"  said  Jane;  "I  don't  de- 
serve it  all." 

260 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

Her  aunt  started  to  reply,  but  was 
stopped  by  a  sudden  loud  bang  outside. 

"Goodness,  what's  that?"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"Auto  tire  burst,  I  think.  I'll  go  and 
see,"  said  Lorenzo,  jumping  up  and  going 
out. 

"Jane,"  said  Susan  solemnly,  "that's  a 
young  man  in  a  million.  Think  of  his 
finding  that  will.  My,  but  he'll  make  a 
good  husband  !" 

"I  just  can't  realize  any  of  it,"  said  her 
niece.  She  seemed  to  be  totally  unequal 
to  any  other  view  of  her  present  situa- 
tion. 

"Well,  you'd  better  realize  it,"  said  her 
aunt,  "because  it's  coming  right  along. 
What  will  Mrs.  Mead  say,  I  wonder ! 
Dear  me,  how  every  one  will  wish  they'd 
tried  to  get  up  a  plane  or  two  by  having  old 
Mrs.  Croft  to  visit  them.  If  that  poor 
old  thing  could  only  come  back,  the  whole 
town  would  just  adore  to  have  her  on  a 
visit  now,  and  every  one  would  sit  up  all 
261 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

night  and  listen  to  Captain  Jinks  so  cheer- 
fully. She  used  to  sing  Rally  round  the 
flag,  boys  too,  —  I  forgot  that.  She  used 
to  sing  it  when  she  heard  the  roosters  begin 
to  crow.  But  nobody  would  have  minded, 
whatever  she  sang  now." 

"Oh,  there's — "  Jane  hesitated  and 
blushed. 

Lorenzo  stood  in  the  door.  "  It  wasn't  a 
burst  tire,"  he  explained  briefly;  "it's  a 
new  kind  of  siren  they're  using.  It's 
friends  from  out  of  town,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Beamer." 

"They've  got  the  wrong  house,"  said 
Susan.  "I  don't  know  any  Beamers." 

"  They  asked  for  Mrs.  Ralston." 

"Then  they're  selling  something,  grape- 
wine  or  hand-knit  lace,  or  something. 
I  don't  want  to  see  'em." 

"I'll  go,"  said  Jane.  And  went  at  once. 
In  the  pretty,  changed  sitting-room  she 
found  the  visitors  —  Mrs.  Beamer  tall  and 
of  large  build,  with  a  handsome  motor-cos- 
tume. Mr.  Beamer  also  large,  very  wiry, 
262 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

and  with  rampant  gray  hair.     Mrs.  B earner 
was  Matilda. 

But  what  a  changed  Matilda  !  "Well, 
Jane,"  coming  forward  and  holding  out 
both  hands,  "did  you  and  Susan  feel  it  ?" 

Jane  staggered  and  laid  hold  of  a  chair. 
"Feel — "  she  stammered  —  "feel  what? 
Oh,  Aunt  Matilda  !" 

"Did  you  feel  the  good  I've  been  doing 
you  ?  How's  my  sister  ?" 

"She  — oh,  she's  all  right." 

"Up  and  dressed  ?" 

"Yes." 

"There,  you  see!"  Matilda  turned  to 
Mr.  Beamer,  triumph  radiating  her  whole 
figure.  "It  worked,  —  oh,  Matthew,  it 
worked."  Then  she  turned  back  to  Jane. 
"Get  up  right  off,  didn't  she?  Same  day 
Heft?" 

"Y — yes."  Jane  clung  more  tightly  to 
the  chair.  She  began  to  doubt  the  ground 
beneath  her  feet. 

"Perfectly  well,  strong,  able-bodied, — 
isn't  she?" 

263 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Yes." 

"You  see? — !>  to  Mr.  Beamer.  Then, 
"Oh,  it's  too  splendid  !  I  s'pose  the  cat's 
stopped  snooping,  too,  hasn't  he  ? " 

"Y-yes." 

"  House  all  clean  ?  Garden  growing 
fine?"  — 

"Yes,  indeed." 

"And  you,  Jane,  how  are  you  ?" 

"Oh,  I'm  all  right.  I  —  I've  become 
engaged." 

"You  hear  that,  Matthew?  And  the 
town?" 

"Everybody's  well." 

"Did  you  ever  in  all  your  life  !" 

"Oh,  old  Mrs.  Croft  died!" 

"Did  she  indeed.     Katie  happy? — " 

"Katie  was  away.     She  died  here." 

"How  nice!  I  expect  she  enjoyed  every 
minute  of  it.  Oh,  Jane,  you  don't  know 
how  happy  your  every  word  is  making 
me!" 

"Shan't  I  call  auntie?" 

"No,  we'll  go  out  and  have  breakfast 
264 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

with  you.  We  had  one  breakfast  so  as 
to  make  it  easy  for  you  to  have  us  have  it 
with  you." 

"Do  come  right  out  to  the  table."  Jane 
led  the  way.  "I  can't  think  what  Aunt 
Susan  will  say  !" 

"Never  mind  what  she  says  —  it'll  be 
just  right.  Everything  always  is.  Come, 
Matthew;"  then  Mrs.  Matilda  Beamer  led 
off,  and  Mr.  Matthew  Beamer  followed, 
smiling  cheerfully.  He  seemed  to  be  a 
very  cheerful  man. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  go  first  and  just 
prepare  auntie,"  Jane  suggested  hastily. 

"No  need.  She  always  yelled  when 
she  saw  me  suddenly,  and  this  time  it  will 
be  for  joy.  Life  is  going  to  be  all  joy  for 
Susan  now." 

Jane  turned  the  button  of  the  dining- 
room  door.  "Auntie  Susan,  it's  Aunt 
Matilda  and  Mr.  Beamer." 

Susan  justified  her  sister's  views  by  forth- 
with   giving   the   yell    of   her   whole    life. 
"Ma— tilda  !  —  And  Mr.  Beamer  !  — " 
265 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Matilda  went  up  to  her,  seized  her,  gave 
her  a  good  hug  and  a  real  kiss.  "I've 
made  lots  of  mistakes,"  she  said,  with  a 
big  tear  in  each  eye,  "but  somehow  it  was 
written  that  I  should  be  allowed  to  make 
them  right.  Susan,  this  is  Matthew.  Sit 
down,  Matthew.  Sit  down,  every  one.'* 

Lorenzo  hastily  pushed  up  chairs,  and 
they  all  sat  down. 

"I'll  get  some  more  dishes,"  Jane  ex- 
claimed, hurrying  into  the  pantry. 

"Matilda  !"  Susan  looked  almost  ready 
to  faint.  "Are  you  —  are  you  — " 

"I'm  married,"  said  Matilda.  "I  don't 
know  what  I've  ever  done  to  deserve  it, 
but  I'm  married.  It's  the  most  beautiful 
romance  that  ever  was  in  the  world,  and 
we've  come  to  tell  you  all  about  it." 

"Oh,  do  !"  Susan  exclaimed.  "Jane, 
come  back  !  Think  of  another  romance, 
and  Matilda,  too  !  Well,  what  next !" 

Matilda  smiled  quite  radiantly.  "We 
met  on  the  train  the  day  I  left  here,"  she 
began;  "it  was  right  off.  He  took  me  out 
266 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

on  the  back  platform  of  the  car  and  opened 
my  eyes  to  life,  and  we  just  suited,  didn't 
we,  Matthew?" 

"Tell  it  all,"  said  Mr.  Beamer;  "tell 
the  beginning." 

"Yes,"  said  his  wife,  "I  will,  I'll  tell  it 
all.  It's  so  splendid  it  would  be  a  pity  to 
skip  anything.  You  see,  he  looked  at  me 
and  —  well,  really,  Matthew,  I  think  you'd 
better  tell  the  first  part." 

"No,  you  tell,"  said  Mr.  Beamer. 

"No,  Matthew,  you  tell  it,  and  I'll  help 
anywhere  I  can." 

"Well,"  said  her  husband,  "then  I'll 
begin  with  saying,  Sister  Susan,  Niece 
Jane,  and  young  man,  that  I'd  better  tell 
you  what  I  am,  first  of  all,  because  I'm  the 
only  one  of  the  kind  in  the  world  so  far 
as  I  know.  You  see,  one  of  those  Bible 
miracles,  that  no  one  can  seem  to  lay  hold 
of  any  more,  got  into  me,  and  I'm  the 
result." 

"That  is  all  true,"  interposed  Matilda, 
her  plain  face  quite  metamorphosed,  as 
267 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

she  looked  at  her  husband  and  then  at 
them.  "Every  word  he  says  is  true,  and 
it's  all  miracles." 

"You  see  I  was  just  a  plain,  ordinary 
man,  with  a  nice  business  and  a  good 
disposition,"  Mr.  Beamer  went  on,  "and 
I  did  get  so  awful  tired  of  things  as  they 
were  going,  and  I  used  to  wish  everything 
was  different,  and  then  one  day,  all  of  a 
God-blessed  sudden,  it  came  over  me,  with 
a  shock  like  lightning,  that  wanting  things 
different  is  the  first  step  to  getting  'em 
different,  and  that  if  you've  got  the  brain 
to  see  what's  lacking,  you've  got  the  body 
to  turn  to  and  help  fill  up  the  hole.  I 
didn't  get  religion  out  of  a  book;  I  got  it 
just  like  that.  I  was  sitting  in  a  rocking- 
chair  with  a  palm-leaf  fan,  and  I  got  up  and 
put  the  fan  on  the  shelf  and  knew  I  was 
all  made  new.  The  very  next  day  I  read 
about  a  doctor  as  set  up  some  nurses  — " 

"Oh,  my  goodness,"  Susan  cried,  "hear 
that,  Jane  !" 

" —  as  was  to  spread  sunshine,  and  I 
268 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

thought  that  was  a  good  idea,  only  I 
couldn't  see  a  place  in  it  for  me,  'cause  I 
wasn't  young  and  wasn't  no  girl  to  go 
'round  spreading  nothing.  I  looked  upon 
it  that  being  a  man,  my  business  wasn't 
to  spread  things  —  a  man's  business  is 
to  get  the  stuff  to  spread;  so  I  figured  out 
that  being  as  I  was  a  man,  I  could  maybe 
help  make  the  sunshine,  and  then  any  one 
could  slather  it  on  that  pleased.  So  I 
began  to  look  about  for  some  sunshine  to 
make,  and  the  handiest  field  I  see  was 
folks  with  hard  lines  around  their  mouths; 
there's  a  powerful  lot  of  them  around,  you 
know,  —  ain't  nothin'  so  hard  to  break  up 
in  life  as  hard  lines  around  mouths.  So  I 
set  out  to  plow  fields  of  hard  lines." 
He  paused.  It  was  a  picture,  a  picture 
painted  in  heavenly  colors  to  see  his  face 
at  the  moment,  full  of  its  own  heartfelt, 
tried,  and  true  enthusiasm,  and  the  faces 
of  those  of  his  four  listeners,  each  touched 
with  the  spiritual  light  shed  by  recent 
events  over  his  or  her  own  individual  path. 
269 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Do  go  on,"  Jane  whispered  softly. 

"Well,  whenever  I'd  see  a  hard  man 
sitting  alone,  I'd  go  up  to  him  and  hold 
out  my  hand  and  say,  'Well,  I  ain't  laid 
eyes  on  you,  I  don't  know  when  !'  That 
wasn't  no  lie,  and  'most  always  we'd  get 
a-talking.  Then  I'd  say,  *  I'm  a  harmless 
crank  that  likes  to  go  round  making  friends, 
and  I  took  a  fancy  to  you  right  off.'  It 
was  wonderful  all  I  come  up  against.  WTiy, 
the  hardest  folks  was  just  aching  to  sit 
down  and  explain  that  they  wasn't  hard  at 
all.  It  was  the  most  interesting  thing  I 
ever  got  hold  of.  I  got  arrested  once  for  a 
gold-brick  man,  and  it  give  me  a  fine  chance 
at  the  jailers  and  some  of  the  men  in  prison. 
Pretty  soon  everything  that  turned  up 
seemed  to  just  come  along  to  give  me  a 
chance  to  make  a  little  sunshine.  Pretty 
soon  life  was  all  nothing  but  sunshine 
chances.  I  got  hold  of  some  books  that 
showed  me  that  lots  of  others  were  trying 
some  similar  games,  and  all  working  hard, 
and  I  picked  out  one  book  that  'most  any- 
270 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

body  could  understand,  and  I  used  to  carry 
it  to  read  from.  Would  you  believe  that 
I  wore  out  that  book  about  a  hundred 
times  and  sold  it  more'n  five  hundred  times 
and  give  it  away  'most  a  thousand  times. 
I  got  where  hard  lines  was  just  play  to  me. 
I've  now  got  where  they're  flowers  in  my 
garden.  I  just  fly  at  'em.  If  they  don't 
give  up  to  one  course,  they  do  to  another. 
I  travel  about  looking  for  'em.  I  was  on 
my  last  trip  when  I  see  Matilda  sittin' 
across  the  aisle  from  me,  and  I  said  to 
myself  right  off,  'What  fine  lines  !'  So  I 
went  right  over  and  shook  hands  with 
her—" 

"He  said  he  feared  maybe  he'd  made 
a  mistake,"  interrupted  his  wife,  "and  I 
said  —  God  forgive  me  !  —  'If  you  speak 
to  me  again,  I'll  call  out  to  the  conductors  ! ' ' 

"And  I  said:  'Madam,  excuse  me,  I'm 
only  a  harmless  crank  as  is  trying  to  help 
folks  as  is  sick  or  in  trouble,  and  you  look 
like  a  woman  as  could  tell  me  of  some  I 
could  help,  maybe  ! ' ' 

271 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Then  I  thought  of  you,  Susan,"  said 
the  sister;  "you  see,  I'd  been  looking  out 
of  the  window,  and  the  view  was  so  pretty, 
and  it  kind  of  come  over  me  how  awful 
hard  it  was  to  lie  in  bed  —  and  —  and  I  felt 
kind  of  bad,  and  his  face  looked  kind,  and 
I  said :  '  Well,  sit  down.  I  do  know  some- 
body sick." 

"So  I  set  down,"  went  on  Mr.  Beamer, 
"and  in  just  a  little  while  she  let  up  like 
everybody  does  and  told  me  the  whole 
story,  and  then  I  took  her  out  on  the 
back  platform  and  we  was  swinging  'round 
curves  of  mighty  lovely  scenery,  and  I  got 
out  my  book  and  I  begin  to  read  aloud  to 
her." 

"And  I  got  hold  of  the  idea  like  mad," 
said  Matilda.  "I  said  right  off:  'Then 
Susan's  really  all  well  now  ? '  an'  he  said : 
'She's  been  well  always,'  and  I  says: 
'And  my  arm's  well,'  and  he  said  :  'Nothin' 
ain't  ever  ailed  your  arm  except  your  own 
innard  feelings,  and  they're  gone  now,' 
and  then  I  just  put  my  hands  over  my  face 
272 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

and  says :    *  Oh,  God,  forgive  me  for  lots 
and  lots  and  lots  of  things." 

There  was  another  little  pause,  and  then 
Susan  said  very  low :  "And  God  did  it." 

"And  then,"  said  Mr.  Beamer,  "I  says 
to  her:  'Now,  if  you  want  to  see  how  true 
everything  I've  been  saying  is,  we'll  just 
put  this  to  a  practical  proof.'  I'd  noticed 
a  woman  with  lines  back  there  in  the  car 
slapping  two  sleepy  children,  and  I  told 
Matilda  we'd  each  take  a  child  for  an  hour 
and  give  her  lines  a  chance  to  smooth  out 
a  little,  and  then  we'd  come  back  on  the 
platform  and  talk  it  over." 

"So  we  did  it,"  said  Matilda,  "and  when 
I  took  the  baby  back  to  the  woman,  she 
burst  out  crying  and  said  she'd  tried  to 
hold  in  all  day  and  just  couldn't  any  longer, 
cause  her  mother  was  sick  and  had  been 
sick  so  long,  and  she  couldn't  leave  the 
children  to  go  to  her  'cause  the  children  was 
the  neighbor's  and  left  with  her  to  board, 
and  she'd  never  liked  children  and  only  took 
'em  'cause  her  mother  needed  the  money." 
273 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"Showing,"  interrupted  Mr.  Beamer, 
"how  we'd  misjudged  her  and  her  hard 
lines,  which  is  another  feature  of  my  cru- 
sade, as  lots  don't  think  enough  about." 

"But  what  come  next  was  just  like  a 
story,  too,"  Matilda  said.  "When  I  got 
to  Mrs.  Camp's  at  last,  I  found  Mrs.  Camp 
so  changed  that  if  I  hadn't  met  Matthew 
on  the  train  and  got  something  to  hold 
on  to,  I  couldn't  have  stayed  in  the  house 
an  hour." 

"Why,  what  was  the  matter  with  Mrs. 
Camp  ?  "  Susan  asked  anxiously. 

"Why,  all  Mrs.  Camp's  family  is  married 
now,  and  it  seems  she  was  so  lonely  she's 
turned  into  a  social  settler  or  some  such 
thing,  and  her  nice,  quiet  house  where  I'd 
looked  to  rest  was  one  swarm  of  Italians 
learning  English  and  girls  learning  sewing 
and  women  asking  advice  and  such  a  chaos 
of  Bedlam  you  never  dreamed.  If  it 
hadn't  been  for  my  just  having  got  religion 
that  way,  I'd  have  turned  around  and  come 
straight  back  home.  But  as  it  was,  I 
274 


IN  A  PERFECTLY  RIGHT  WAY 

didn't  have  time  to  do  anything  but  get 
into  my  blue  print  and  take  hold  right 
with  her  and  get  some  order  into  things 
in  general." 

"Oh,  Aunt  Matilda!"  Jane's  face  was 
radiant. 

"Afternoons  Matthew  came  with  an 
auto,  and  he'd  take  me  off  with  the  back 
seat  full  of  children,  and  we'd  hunt  hard 
lines  anywhere  they  looked  likely." 

"And  then,  of  course,  we  soon  got  mar- 
ried," said  Mr.  Beamer. 

"Yes,  and  that's  all,"  said  Matilda. 
"Now  did  you  ever?" 

There  was  a  sudden  hush,  until  finally 
Susan  said,  through  tears:  "Oh,  Matilda, 
—  it's  like  something  in  heaven's  got  loose 
and  fell  right  down  over  us,  isn't  it?" 

"I  think  it's  all  too  wonderful,"  said 
Jane. 

"Of  course  there  really  is  something  out 
of  heaven  spread  over  earth  every  day," 
said   Lorenzo,   low,   and   very   reverently ; 
"only  people  don't  see  it!" 
275 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

"But  nowadays,  everybody's  beginning 
to  recognize  it,"  Jane  murmured. 

"It's  like  it  says  in  one  of  my  books," 
said  Mr.  Beamer.  "God's  a  reservoir  and 
we're  all  pipes,  just  as  soon  as  we're  willing 
to  be  pipes,  and  then  He  pours  through  us 
according  to  how  willing  we  are,  because 
you're  big  or  little  just  according  to  how 
willing  you  are." 

"Let  us  all  be  very  willing,"  said  Jane. 

"Oh,  Jane,"  said  Susan,  "that  sounds 
like  a  blessing  to  ask  at  the  table.  Let's 
ask  a  blessing  after  this  and  just  say : 
'  Let  us  all  be  very  willing  ! ' ' 

"Amen,"  said  Lorenzo. 


276 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE   RESULTS 

FANE  was  married  in  the  early  autumn. 
*-*  She  didn't  have  any  trousseau  or  any 
wedding  presents  or  any  bridal  trip.  It  was 
a  new  kind  of  wedding,  because  so  much 
about  her  and  her  way  of  looking  at  life 
was  new  to  those  about  her,  that  even  her 
marriage  had  to  match  it.  "My  clothes 
are  always  in  nice  order,"  she  said  to  Susan, 
slightly  appalled  over  the  non-existing  prep- 
arations, "and  I  love  to  sew  and  will 
make  what  I  need  as  I  need  it." 

"I  don't  want  any  presents,"  Lorenzo 
had  said  decidedly.  "I  don't  want  any 
one  on  earth  to  groan  because  I'm  marry- 
ing Jane." 

"I  don't  think  much  of  bridal  trips: 
277 


SUNSHINE  JANE 

Matthew  and  I  didn't  have  one,  so  I  know 
all  about  them,"  said  Matilda,  who  now 
had  her  standard  and  never  lowered  it  for 
one  instant;  "those  bothers  are  just  about 
over  for  sensible  people." 

So  it  all  fell  out  in  this  way.  One  lovely 
bright  September  day,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Beamer  and  Mrs.  Susan  Ralston  walked 
quietly  into  the  village  church  and  sat 
down  in  the  front  pew.  Shortly  after 
the  clergyman  and  the  bride  and  the  groom 
came  in,  and  the  clergyman  married  the 
bride  to  the  groom.  Then  they  all  went 
out  together,  and  the  clergyman  left  them 
to  go  home  together.  A  nice  cold  luncheon 
was  spread  at  Susan's,  and  the  cat  was 
waiting,  scratching  hard  at  his  white  bow 
while  he  did  so. 

After  luncheon  Mr  Beamer,  his  wife, 
and  his  wife's  sister  went  off  for  a  journey. 

"Think  of  me  traveling!"  Susan  cried 
ecstatically.  "Oh,  Jane,  may  you  enjoy 
going  abroad  this  winter  as  much  as  I  shall 
going  off  now." 

278 


THE  RESULTS 

Jane  smiled  her  pretty  smile,  and  then, 
after  the  last  wave  of  adieu,  she  and  Lorenzo 
went  back  into  the  house. 

"This  is  really  very  funny,  you  know," 
said  Lorenzo;  "first  we  will  wash  all  the 
dishes,  and  then  we  will  plan  our  future." 

"Yes,"  Jane  said. 

But  they  failed  to  do  either. 

Instead,  they  left  the  dishes  and  the  fu- 
ture to  care  for  themselves.  Going  straight 
down  into  the  garden,  climbing  the  two 
fences,  safely  secluded  in  the  little,  growing, 
blooming  inclosure,  Lorenzo  took  his  wife 
in  his  arms,  and  said:  "Oh,  my  dearest 
dear,  how  rightest  right  everything  is  ! " 


THE  END 


279 


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A  Woman's  Will 

Illustrated.     $1.50 
A  deliciously  funny  book. —  Chicago  Tribune. 

How  Leslie  Loved 

Illustrations  in  color  by  A.  B.  Wenzell.     $1.25  net 
The  sprightly  romance  of  a  young  and  charming  American  widow. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  Publishers 

34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


JSBBSKSBUHIL 


000  286  203     s 


